


Divergent Chessboard

by InoruMarufuji



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3racha exists but with a different lineup, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Disorder, Asexual Felix, Black Markets, Blackmail, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Chess Metaphors, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disjointed narrative, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Felix is best friends with an Aussie idol, Gaslighting, Han Jisung | Han & Seo Changbin are Best Friends, Heavy Angst, Human Trafficking, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Jeongin is not a great person, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Sexual Content, Murder, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Suicide Attempt, Terminal Illnesses, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable narrator Jisung, World Klass is a group that exists in this fic and they have all 20 members, idol cameos, naive jisung, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 83,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22601179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InoruMarufuji/pseuds/InoruMarufuji
Summary: Jeongin loves control. He loves planning. He loves games. He loves chess.For someone like him, the world is nothing more than a chessboard, the pieces all at his disposal to do with as he wishes.But sometimes, someone who plays chess doesn't know he is a chess piece on the board at the same time.Or: Jisung thinks his life is finally going great. He has wonderful friends, a job he enjoys and a home to feel safe in.Too bad it's all a lie.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 38
Kudos: 76





	1. [Black ???]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Jeongin!
> 
> This fic came to be because of the MV for A.C.E's Undercover and my burning desire to write Jeongin as a criminal.  
> God knows I've already rambled about that concept way too much, so I'll just shut up.  
> Dedicated to Bine once more who helped me a ton with this and listened to all my stupid rants in the dead of night. Love you.
> 
> This is probably the darkest thing I've written as of now, so mind all tags and warnings.

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**Reset all tactical modules.** _

If there was one game Jeongin absolutely loved, it was chess.

For as long as he could remember, playing chess had always been his number one leisure activity whenever he had been particularly bored or felt as if he wasn't being challenged enough.

He'd turned to chess when he felt lonely, angry or stressed and somehow, the pattern of that board he'd found by accident in the old chest in the hellhole he'd spent his childhood in made it all go away.

It chased away everything he worried about, eased the bruises painted on his skin and invited him to indulge in a tactical war, mostly with himself.

It had given him quite some insight into his own mind, into his own thinking patterns and decisions, and if he thought about it, it might have even been the reason he had decided to pursue the career he had chosen for himself.

Playing chess had helped him to know himself better, but it had also helped him to realize that the world wasn't as complex or scary as he'd always believed it to be.

As a matter of fact, the world was nothing more than a game of chess itself, only with millions upon millions of pawns that were aimlessly hopping over the board and an empty spot where the king belonged that was asking to be filled.

It was a game of planning, temperament and being able to adapt to every situation, all qualities which Jeongin excelled at due to the training he had put himself through.

As all good players, he knew that every piece in this game had its purpose, but he also knew how to use them to his advantage and that included mercilessly sacrificing pawns for the greater good of the king that hadn't even entered the board yet.

As all _great_ players, he didn't even need to think about his next moves anymore, everything seemingly falling into place for him and creating a perpetual routine.

Jeongin liked routine.

He liked his days to play out in a coordinated manner, every single one of them perfectly arranged and identical to the previous, all for the sake of saving precious effort, all for the sake of proficiency.

Proficiency was important in a business such as theirs, every single day a competition, a race against the world and their ethics, a scramble to get one step ahead of them, of _him,_ and be the first one to call out ''Checkmate!'' _._

It was a competition the world just couldn't win because it was too slow, too inefficient and too useless in comparison to him who had laid out his days so flawlessly that he saved one very important factor in this game of chess – time.

Time was the essence of his victory because it enabled him to see and evaluate potential threats and react to them in advance, so they wouldn't accumulate into something bigger and become his downfall.

Not that there were many threats in the first place, no, not with the second quality he mastered all too well.

Deception.

During all of his years of getting by in this mess of a world, he had learned how crucial it was to keep up illusions, to trick people into believing made-up lies and to hide his true nature from anyone who might use it against him one day.

It was easy to keep up a facade in front of people, to convince them he was just an innocent kid that would never be capable of doing any harm and while it was an annoying role to play, tiring and so fake that it made him puke in disgust, he would never pass on the possibility of deceiving people.

It made him feel powerful, superior, invincible and on top of that came the thrill that had made Jeongin the person he was today, twisted and ruthless.

He liked toying around with the thrill of slipping up at any second, the knowledge that he could be exposed with just a simple mistake and it made him all the more conscious about every single decision he made and his desire to be in control.

He liked being in control of the situation. He liked control. He liked power.

It was what made him so suited to be the king of this game, to run this place, even though he technically wasn't the one in charge.

But that was just the papers, that was just the ink flowing on the aquisition documents, forming the words _Bang Chan_ , just so he didn't have to waste his time signing contracts and doing taxes and all this other time-consuming stuff that came with running a business.

Plus, it helped him keep up the facade he had made for himself, the one of the cute and harmless kid that barely knew how to pay bills, much less how to handle the responsibility of owning a hotel.

He probably just looked like an employee to the guests with the neatly buttoned up uniform Jisung had lent him because he had been condemned to desk duty tonight.

He hated desk duty.

He wasn't really one for paperwork in general, it was boring, monotone and required literally no deeper thinking.

It was exactly the type of work fitted for Jisung, but Chan, that fucking asshole Chan, had assigned him for it tonight because they needed Jisung out on the board.

It wasn't Jeongin's usual routine to stand here like this and it made him feel as if his valuable time was running through his fingers like sand which only served to further agitate him.

But still, he was a professional, so like hell was he going to let his feelings seep through while he was at work.

''Thanks for having us, it was a pleasure!''

Jeongin forced a smile on his lips despite the disdain that welled up in him as the young couple passed him the money from their ridiculously low bill, his nails scraping the edge of the reception desk in restlessness.

It was difficult enough to act his part any other day, but today there was this weird pressure in his head, coupled with a dull thumping in his temples from time to time, which made him all the more eager for the end of his shift.

He hated treating guests, dirty little pawns, as if they were kings and he hated even more that they always expected to be treated this way wherever they went.

They could mess up stores, order staff around and get dirt all over the floor to their heart's content and it was left to some poor unfortunate souls to clean up the mess left behind by these pigs.

He saw it happen more than enough in the breakfast room where butter was smeared all across the expensive table cloths and drinks were purposely spilled, in the lobby where they got their filthy hands on all the pictures hanging on the wall and the furniture that had costed Jeongin a month worth of business or in the guest's rooms where just about everything was a mess.

It was really driving him up the wall.

Not that he could say anything about it.

''Thank you for your patronage. I hope to welcome you back some time.''

He didn't, actually, but nobody asked for his opinion on these things.

Socializing like this wasn't his forte, it was one reason Jisung was on desk duty so often, but some client, that same asshole that always caused Jeongin to lose sleep, had insisted on giving them another high value target to capture, so it had become necessary for Jisung to check out the situation a little more.

In other words, it was up to him to run their cover-up.

He hated it, he couldn't understand how Jisung could do this for days on end, but then again, that boy was so damn cheerful and eager to help people that it really shouldn't come as a surprise.

The couple left the lobby, two bags lazily slung over their shoulders and a content smile on their faces as they chattered with each other about Seoul's landscapes, the sea, their plans for the future and the delicious food they'd just devoured.

It was disgusting how happy they were wallowing in the world's beauty, not knowing the other side of that coin and a seething hatred flared up in Jeongin, causing him to tighten his grip on the reception desk he was standing behind in order to keep himself in check.

His fingers itched to reach for the smooth steel of his favorite gun that was safely tucked away under the desk in case of an emergency – god forbid it would end up like last time – and the familiar thrill of a possible kill rushed through his veins, the feeling addicting and sweeter than anything he had ever tasted, sweeter than even the victory from last time.

The thought gave him goosebumps and he shivered in delight as he watched the front door close with a silent click, the couple shutting it behind themselves.

God, he really felt like ending someone's life right now.

Relaxing his grip on the desk a little, Jeongin reached for his phone which displayed the current time.

9 pm.

The end of his shift. Coincidentally, the end of the season as well.

He let out a breath of relief.

Another long season of fake business done yet again.

Running this hotel as a cover-up was so incredibly exhausting, each season seemingly more draining than the last, and even though he would have gladly dropped the business alltogether, he couldn't do that if he wanted to keep up a convincing facade.

Deception was key and people would surely get suspicious if there was a hotel around that seemed to do perfectly well financially without ever hosting a single guest.

So he had to keep going, no matter how much more he loved his _actual_ job, no matter how much he _despised_ the guests that were flocking to his hotel like sheep whenever the season began because it was the cheapest accommodation around, yet still offered plenty of free extras and was of incredibly high quality.

Granted, if Jeongin was prompted to keep it in that state, he would probably fail miserably, but since he was friends with the right people, with the ones who knew better than to ask questions about his occupation or the boy that was locked up in his room, he could always be sure that both the service and condition the hotel was in would be kept at the highest possible quality.

Of course, as long as he delivered the paycheck.

But that wasn't a problem, after all, he made enough money with his actual business.

That business being human trafficking.

Jeongin couldn't say what he enjoyed about this so much, whether it was the prospect of waking up in a luxurious bedroom, bathing in money and travelling wherever he felt like at any time, the enormous rush of adrenaline he got every time he captured someone, their crying and begging as he disclosed what would happen to them or the feeling of satisfaction that welled up in his chest when he handed them over to the client, knowing he was ruining their lives, hopes and dreams for good.

He guessed it was a mix of everything that made his job so appealing and another plus were the stupidly pretty people he was hired to kidnap.

Some of them were simply aesthetically pleasing to look at, but then they were the downright gorgeous ones, the ones that would be sold for sex or other filthy affairs and although he tried to hold back, he really wished he could keep them all to himself sometimes.

Just like the boy in his room.

But enough about that.

Jeongin did a quick round through the hotel, as was expected of him, making sure all the guests were really gone and hadn't left anything behind, before he returned to the reception again, having not even bothered yet to remove his uniform before he dialed Chan's number on his phone.

He did it for no certain reason, just occasionally wanting to check in with the other to see where he was or if he needed any help and by now, it had become something of a ritual to the point where Chan was genuinely concerned if he didn't receive a call from him at some point.

It took a good thirty seconds for him to pick up, but that wasn't unusual considering his busy schedule, so Jeongin waited patiently until he heard a click, followed by a string of curses.

''God, can't you just stay down?! Fucking hell, you act as if I'm about to murder you! Chill the fuck out!''

''Let me go, you piece of shit! I'm gonna fucking kill you, watch me!''

Jeongin heard Chan scoff and he let out a light chuckle of amusement, one that didn't go unnoticed by his accomplice.

''Shut it, you were the one who neglected to tell me this mission came with one of these whiny assholes.''

There was some shuffling in the background and more screaming from said whiny asshole, yet it was rendered unintelligible as Chan finally had the decency to shove something into his captive's mouth.

He was nothing short of a perfectionist, striving to complete his missions as fast as he could without any sound or witnesses around that could give him away, which more often than not meant he had to knock his targets out before making his swift escape, but sometimes he didn't seem to hit them hard enough, resulting in situations like these where the target woke up prematurely.

That wasn't a problem in and of itself, Chan could deal with screaming and crying just fine, but some targets were exceptionally gifted in driving him up the wall to the point where he lost all self-control, so after the first _incident_ , Jeongin had just made it a game to have Chan deliver the targets that he knew were hard on his nerves and see how many he got alive.

Actually, it was really just one specific group of people he absolutely loathed and to this day, Jeongin wasn't quite sure why that was, but he never bothered to ask either, so it had just developed into this sort of thing that was known throughout the business, but was never really touched upon.

Chan sighed in exhaustion as soon as he was finished silencing the target and Jeongin felt a smile tugging at his lips.

He liked playing around with people, even the ones that were on his side.

 _Especially_ the ones that were on his side.

''Hard day?'', he asked, mockingly.

''What do you think?'', Chan shot back and Jeongin could almost _hear_ him rolling his eyes which only served to make him laugh. ''You know my self-restraint when it comes to those fucking idols.''

''What self-restraint?''

''Exactly.''

There was a short pause, the rustle of paper and the sound of something being hastily written and Jeongin played around with the little bell on the reception while he was waiting for a status update.

He knew the client who had asked for this idol wasn't expecting him until sometime tomorrow, so there was plenty of time to get him here and dress him up appropriately, maybe add a bow for a nice touch or some glitter that could be used to decorate his face.

Jeongin liked his products to look pretty when he delivered them – or rather, when he _had_ them delivered – and most of the clients appreciated the extra work he put in, upping the paycheck accordingly.

It was hardly work for him anyway, if he thought about it.

It was more of a leisure activity he indulged in to calm down from a tiring day and he could spend hours upon hours on redesigning the handsome faces and impressive bodies of young adults to make each and every one unique.

Nowadays, they all seemed too much alike, too bland, too fake, too indistinguishable from each other, especially those idols that were high in demand, so he poured a lot of care into making sure they would become their own person again.

They were like a canvas for him where he could express himself on, where he could leave his signature so that everyone knew whose masterpieces they were.

They were his.

All of the people he'd gotten his hands on were first and foremost his own, they all belonged to him, even if he did sell them off, because they were all his pretty dolls.

Some more than others, but that was okay.

Everyone had a favorite doll after all, so it was only natural that he had kept his most special product to himself.

It had been the first time he had captured someone with the intention to keep them, even if he knew that he could make much more profit out of selling them again.

But by God, the boy had been too handsome to give away again, even if he'd had a lot of attitude at first and hadn't been able to keep quiet for five minutes when Jeongin had first introduced him to his new home.

He had taken care of it though.

But enough about that.

''So'', Chan finally reported back and Jeongin immediately listened in again, his gaze fixed on a picture Jisung had insisted on buying and hanging in the lobby. It showed Jeju Island, a place he liked to visit, where the water was as azure as it came and the sky was the deepest and most comforting blue he had ever seen.

Guests always commented on it, just like they always commented on the entire interior of the hotel that appeared with the two tiled floor and the giant chess pieces standing around everywhere as if it was a chessboard.

''Status report.''

''That's what I'm waiting for'', Jeongin confirmed, silently urging Chan to just give him the information he needed in order to prepare for his newest doll's arrival and be done with it. He hated wasting time.

''I've secured my hold on the target.''

''Yeah, I've figured. Good job. What else?''

No answer.

Chan was hesitating, one of Jeongin's biggest pet peeves, yet he resisted the urge to just straight up snap at him and took a few deep breaths instead before he repeated his question, his tone dropping dangerously low.

''What else?''

Luckily, Chan got the message and after some more rustling, he finally received his glorious answer.

''I didn't make the smooth transition in and out this time, there were about three people who saw me on my way. They probably don't suspect anything, but-''

''Get your hair and outfit changed'', Jeongin interrupted. He wasn't in the mood for Chan's rephrasing of the fact that he had screwed up and although it was inconvenient for a mistake like this to happen when their cover up season had just ended, it wasn't the end of the world. ''Bleached blond will do. Anything else you fucked up?''

He could hear his accomplice huff at the other end of the line.

''Aren't we in a good mood today? What's the matter, did your little doll ignore you again?''

Of course he had the fucking audacity to make this about his doll again and of course he had the fucking audacity to be right in his assumption.

Chan could read him too well.

He really ought to do something about that.

''Fuck you.''

His disobedient doll hadn't so much as even acknowledged his presence once today which wasn't a particularly rare thing for him to do, but still, it annoyed the hell out of Jeongin and he just knew he would snap one of these days.

He was sure his doll did it on purpose, loving to tick others off just as much as Jeongin himself did, however, while he appreciated the fact that his doll was growing on him and adopting some of his character traits, he couldn't deny that it made him want to choke the other.

To death, preferably.

It would be so easy too, with the way he hardly put up a fight anymore, just kneeling on the floor all day with his head on Jeongin's bed, black hair splayed out so beautifully on the white sheets and bound hands twitching ever so slightly whenever he was stuck in one of his bad dreams.

At this point, he was mostly falling in and out of consciousness, never really awake for extended amounts of time, and while he _was_ extremely pretty to look at, even the brightest diamonds eventually got boring.

Back when his doll had still been somewhat lively, he'd used to let out soft, pained whimpers, sometimes even in the middle of the night, and as an incredibly light sleeper, Jeongin had woken up each and every time from them, but luckily, that wasn't an issue anymore.

His doll was awfully quiet these days and even though he had to admit that he missed being woken up by that sweet voice, he knew that this was for the better.

And he was sure his doll knew too.

''Did you remember to feed him?''

That usual question again.

He didn't know why Chan felt the need to ask him time and time again, only to receive the same answer over and over.

''Of course I did! I wouldn't forget something like this!''

He lied without shame because he knew none.

Technically, it wasn't even a lie, he didn't exactly _forget_ to feed his doll, it was just that it was too much of a hassle and that he had a busy life.

His doll understood, he knew that he did, because he didn't even beg for food anymore, not wanting to rob Jeongin of his precious time that could be invested otherwise.

Or maybe he just didn't beg because he couldn't do so anymore, but he liked to disregard that possibility as much as he could.

Chan sighed again and Jeongin mentally prepared himself for another speech of why he should take responsibility for his actions and not toy around like this with someone else's life.

Which, by the way, was fucking rich coming from the guy who sold people for a living.

The massive speech didn't come though and Jeongin almost thought the call had disconnected until he heard Chan's tired exhale.

''You do you, I guess.''

Huh?

That was it?

He almost couldn't believe it, but when nothing but silence followed Chan's sentence, the older obviously waiting for him to say something, Jeongin quickly cleared his throat and tried to get back to the matter at hand.

He guessed he should be thankful that he'd escaped a scolding because those tended to take a while and there were really other things he should be focusing on right now besides his obvious tendencies that he already knew about, but for some reason, he only felt vaguely disappointed.

Chan had never been one to have a hands-off approach, especially not when it came to his doll, so Jeongin had come to expect his constant nagging, but to get nothing at all was unsatisfying and he didn't like that.

He wanted to be entertained.

Chan was aware of this, of course, yet he still chose to rile him up one too many times, as was the nature of their dynamics.

Jeongin liked toying with him and in return Chan made sure to keep him somewhat grounded and in his right mind.

Well, 'right' mind.

It was a weird relationship, full of teasing, insulting and occasional violence, but it worked.

And even if it didn't, he would _make_ it work.

''Is Jisung still out on that scouting mission?''

Considering that lessons were over since five and he still hadn't returned yet, Jeongin could only assume that the boy's ridiculously short attention span had gotten the better of him again and he was off goofing around somewhere.

Of course, there was always the very slim chance that he'd actually do something useful, such as talking to the target's friends, assessing and reconstructing the target's daily pattern to make Chan's job easier, but that would require him to have any sort of real understanding what kind of business he was stuck in.

Which Jeongin wasn't sure he did because a kind soul such as Jisung would never willingly hang out with the likes of him, 'the scum of the world', as they were called.

Laughable.

If people truly believed that his business was the worst this world had to offer, they had obviously never looked into a mirror before and seen the ugliest sides of their own soul.

Such naive pawns. Almost as naive as Jisung.

''Don't count on it, he's probably off somewhere getting distracted.''

Jeongin wasn't angry. Not anymore.

He had gotten used to the fact that the other boy basically added nothing to the business, yet he still kept him around and paid him accordingly because of his social skills.

He always made Jisung's paycheck way too high, curious to see if he would catch on and understand that there was no way in hell the money could only come from the hotel's income, but he hadn't figured it out until now and Jeongin didn't think he ever would.

But then again, it was this kind of stuff that entertained him, so he hadn't bothered yet to get rid of Jisung, even if that option had everything going for it.

''He hasn't come back yet?'', Chan repeated, more out of habit than out of genuine concern, his tone of voice giving away that he was _trying_ to sound at least somewhat nervous, but that it was clearly not working.

Jeongin didn't know who Chan was even trying to fool here, they both knew that he didn't care that much about Jisung in the first place.

He considered the younger boy an inconvience at best and a fucking waste of space and ressources at worst. An opinion Jeongin could whole-heartedly agree with, at least on an objective basis.

Objectively speaking, Jisung was an easy target for any rivaling businesses to use for blackmail since he was neither trained in self-defense nor particularly brave enough to hold his own against anyone and Chan was merely afraid of being forced into a defensive play again because of it.

The thought made Jeongin laugh.

He knew there were rivals, opponents, out there trying to bring his king to fall, but they were all too slow in their thinking, too far away on the board to cause him any harm or even be a threat.

He'd planned it perfectly, he knew every move they would make even before they were aware of it themselves, and likewise, he knew that they weren't dumb enough to take one of his acquaintances from under his nose.

Or who knew, maybe they were.

Wouldn't be a major loss.

Jeongin's gaze wandered over to the life-sized chess pieces that stood neatly placed at opposite corners of the lobby.

A new game required a new setup and after he had gloriously won that last round with a victory that still tasted like sugar on his tongue, he was confident that this rematch wouldn't turn out any other way as long as he repeated what he had done last time.

Chan was a key player in this match as well, seeing how he was able to act at the beginning of the game without having to move a pawn first.

He had to be close to where the action was on the board, meaning he was most effective in areas where the opponent's pieces were clustered or close together and Jeongin aimed to use this fact to his full advantage.

As long as there were no mistakes in his play, it would work out this time too, even if white always got to make the first move.

''No, he's still out. Are you going to come back?''

Two steps in any direction, one sideways.

This time, there was only the tiniest moment of hesitation before Chan's voice filtered through the phone, the sound of a car engine in the background music to Jeongin's ears as he listened intently.

''Yeah, I'll be back by 10.''

Two steps in any direction.

''Make sure to use the back door.''

One sideways.

''You don't need to remind me how to do my job, Innie.''

The knight.


	2. [Black Bishop]

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**Begin development of ''BLACK'' minor pieces.** _

Jisung shivered in the cold evening breeze, the thin leather jacket he'd grabbed in a hurry that morning doing nothing to shield him from Seoul's merciless nights.

His muscles were stiff from lack of movement and his bag lay discarded somewhere to his side, long forgotten in favor of focusing all his attention on the brightly lit window he was currently crouching down in front of, out of sight for the boy inside the studio who was in the middle of some fancy dance choreography.

He had been going at it since six thirty, precisely the same time as every day, precisely the same choreography he was trying to finish, to polish even further, and still, Jisung never got tired of watching him perform, every move flowing into the next so naturally that it took his breath away.

There was always a familiar feeling to the moves as well, their execution and grace reminding him of the idols he had liked to watch perform at concerts whenever there had been time in between his stressing over deadlines for university and trying to do his job properly without looking and behaving like a sleep-deprived zombie who only functioned on caffeine.

Pursuing a study on top of his job had been quite the burden at first, but according to Jeongin, it would help him immensely with his career options later on in life, so he had let the younger sign him up for university anyway.

He had suffered the loss of most of his free time as a result, no longer finding time to attend concerts or keep up with new comebacks, not even from his favorite groups and idols, but it was fine.

Even if it was stressful at times to balance both of his responsibilities, he wouldn't have it any other way because it made moments like these all the more rewarding to him.

He carefully peeked over the windowsill, giving up his cover for a better view, but the boy didn't notice him, too engrossed in his dance to pay attention to his surroundings.

He was clearly a professional, looking calm and relaxed on the outside while his moves still radiated so much power and told of a deep love for dancing.

Letting his guard down a little, Jisung pressed his hands to the window, his breaths fogging up the glass as he leaned in, just in time to see the boy drop down to execute the next part of the choreography on the floor with the same sharp precision he always showed.

It was fascinating to watch him, downright addicting to hear the exhausted gasps and the frustrated hiss every time he lost his tempo during a particularly complicated sequence that were audible through the thin glass of that window.

The boy always kept the windows shut despite the overwhelming heat and stuffiness that had to be present in the room, only opening them once during his session, precisely at ten, to sit on the windowsill and let the cool air attack his feverish body that was so beautifully adorned with beads of sweat while he looked up at the sky.

During that time, Jisung always retreated into the shadows of the building, relying on the natural darkness of the night to conceal him, even if it got his heart pounding with fear at the same time.

Meanwhile, the familiar music would keep running in the background, soft, peaceful beats mixing with the boy's humming, giving the whole atmosphere a melancholic vibe.

Jisung could always recognize right away what song the boy was listening and dancing to because of that sweet, honey-like voice of his favorite idol that carried over to him from the speakers.

It managed to melt his heart every time he heard it and occasionally, he found himself singing along to his favorite songs, quiet but audible, as he was unable to stop himself from sympathizing with the touching lyrics.

When the boy felt like singing, his voice would mix so naturally with Jisung's own that it sent shivers down his spine, his body heating up to almost abnormal levels even in the coldest of nights.

The moment of serenity never lasted long enough for Jisung to fully savor it though, only a minute or two, depending on the weather and the boy's mood, and recently, he didn't even open the window at all anymore, almost as if he was afraid of someone spying on him.

Jisung would have liked to reassure him that there was no one there, no one to worry about, no one to cause him harm, but he didn't think the boy would listen to him.

He didn't even know him.

They had never as much as exchanged a word with each other despite going to the same university, despite seeing each other at lunch every day, despite checking each other out secretly in the hallways, despite everything they had going for them.

He didn't know the boy at all, didn't even have a name, a major, a fragment of his personality or anything alike to go off.

It bothered Jisung, it really did, because at this point, it was almost too late to initiate some kind of first contact, what with all the dancing around each other they always did.

Jeongin had found it only natural, bringing up chess metaphors every time Jisung voiced his concern to the younger, but somehow, there was no comfort in those words.

_If two opposing bishops are on different colored squares, they are fated never to meet each other._

He understood the rules of chess, he understood the relation to his problem, but he didn't _understand_ why it had to be that way.

Why couldn't he just move to another square?

He knew of course that chess was a very complicated game where every piece could only move in specific patterns and while he had come to accept this fact fairly quickly, he felt trapped by the whole system sometimes, pushed into a corner that he couldn't get out of himself.

It gave him a headache when he thought about it too hard, sharp pain manifesting in his temples and inducing a dull throbbing that only soothed when he remembered Jeongin's words, drilled into him time and time again until he had been able to recite them in his sleep.

_Leave the playing to me, just focus on moving._

Jisung had honestly expected himself to struggle with this way of living.

He had expected himself to feel revolted at the prospect of handing all of his responsibilities over to someone else, but to his own surprise, not thinking about his decisions and trusting Jeongin to lead him was the most relieving and satisfying experience he had ever made in his life.

He didn't have to agonize over what his place in the world might be anymore or be afraid that his own rash decisions would cause him to end up in that one place he didn't want to go back to.

He could relax and live his life in peace as long as he didn't question the mechanisms of the board that was the world and so, to spare himself unnecessary suffering, he didn't.

He left the thinking to Jeongin with the knowledge that the younger would take care of him better than he himself ever could.

_Just focus on moving._

Diagonally. Any number of squares.

He could do that.

The lights inside the studio switched off and Jisung checked his phone as he waited for the boy to exit the studio, not even caring that he got drenched from the rain that suddenly set in, a light drizzle that cooled his already icy body down even more.

There were about five missed calls from Chan, as well as two text messages asking him if he was alright while simultaneously reprimanding him for staying out for so long once again and getting sidetracked like this.

Personally, Jisung didn't think he was getting sidetracked, he'd still finished his job after all, asking around at university about that person that Jeongin had wanted to know about, gathering as much information as he could before compiling it into a list and sending it to him via e-mail.

As far as everyone knew, the person in question was a government official's son who just so happened to attend the same university as Jisung, but was hiding that fact from everyone for reasons that nobody could quite understand.

Lee Chan was his name, but he went by the nickname 'Dino' at school, so much even that it had been almost impossible to find any documents with his real name on it, all hidden and kept under lock in the supposedly safest database of Seoul.

But even the safest database of Seoul was no real match for Jisung's curiosity and with a little bribe he'd actually managed to get Seungmin away from his homework for Computer Science and Technology and convince him to hack into the file concerning Lee Chan.

It was probably, most likely, surely not exactly legal, but Seungmin didn't care about that as much as he cared about challenging himself and improving his hacking, so he wasn't really fazed by the possible consequences this could have for him.

He was by no means a bad person, quite the opposite actually since he had certain ethical guidelines he kept to at all times so that he wouldn't slip into a life of crime, and Jisung could honestly respect that.

One of Seungmin's most important rules was 'Look, don't touch', meaning he was willing to hack into certain databases for a compensation, but was reluctant about using the information he found there to bring harm to anyone.

And since that wasn't Jisung's goal either, he had no problem working together with him whenever necessary.

The file about Lee Chan hadn't contained any juicy gossip like Jisung had hoped, but he'd gotten to know a lot of other interesting stuff about his fellow student that he had forwarded to Jeongin to do with as he wished, including his schedule, daily routine, hobbies, family and interests.

He didn't feel guilty about sharing someone else's private information because really, he was just helping Jeongin master his study.

The younger had told him that he was pursuing a side career in psychology and that he needed case studies to get a better understanding of the human psyche, so Jisung didn't even think twice about handing all that information over to him, knowing it would only be used for research and not to harm anyone.

Plus, he really liked getting to know more about the students himself, especially if they were as interesting as this Dino guy was.

Because although Dino had an image of pristine perfection and seriousness to uphold as a government official's son, Jisung had learned that he was secretly a big fan of things that were considered 'geeky' by his fellow classmates, such as the idol group Monsta X.

He had also learned that the boy had a hard time making friends, probably because of his lacking social skills and strict upbringing, and that he was never really allowed to go anywhere on his own which Jisung imagined to be quite suffocating.

It made him feel kind of bad for the boy and he had to admit that he'd pondered over whether to try and approach Dino the entire rest of the day.

In the end, he had decided against it, not wanting to come across as creepy and also not wanting to make such a decision without hearing Jeongin's advice first.

Instead, he had focused his attention on the cute boy he was fated to never meet and tailed him to the studio, feeling like he had earned the privilege of watching the boy's performance after he'd successfully completed his job for the day.

As if on cue, the studio's door opened and almost out of instinct, Jisung pressed himself against the building, becoming one with the dark shadows and the night as the boy emerged, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and his face faintly illuminated by the light of his phone as he fumbled around with the keys.

He was clearly nervous, clearly feeling vulnerable despite the confidence that always radiated off him during his dancing and the sudden change was endearing, cute almost.

He locked the door, his gaze flickering from side to side suspiciously, attentively, and as soon as he had removed the key from the lock, he made a dash down the road, the rain hitting his body as he disappeared into the night.

Jisung felt bad for his paranoia.

He couldn't imagine what it must be like to always feel someone's gaze on him even though no one was actually there.

It had to be a terrible feeling, that was for sure.

He checked his phone again, the current time displayed to him on his home screen which showed the same picture of Jeju Island that also hung in the lobby of their hotel.

It was difficult to put into words what fascinated him so much about the island, but he couldn't deny that he felt a strong pull to this place whenever he was on vacation.

He had yet to book his ticket for this season, but that was mainly because he hoped he could finally take someone with him this time and show them the place where his heart was.

But that didn't matter right now, what mattered was that it was currently half past eleven, that he was freezing his ass off in the cold and that he should have been home an hour ago which would undoubtedly mean he was going to face a scolding from Chan and if he was extremely unlucky, Jeongin too.

The mere thought was enough to send him running down the street as well, exactly the opposite direction from where the boy had gone and he was once again aware of just how cold it was as his breath was making small puffs in the air.

The way home wasn't long by any means, at least not when he took the bus, but the problem in this part of the city was that there were hardly any buses driving after eleven, so what could have otherwise been a 10 minute drive in a cozy vehicle turned into a 30 minute walk down eerie and very scarcely lit streets and alleys.

It was almost ironic how his friendly neighborhood with the lively and colorful flowers in every front yard, the cute kids who never forgot to greet him when he passed them on his way to university and the bustling streets with their pretty lights could turn into something so threatening and scary just with a change of lighting.

It made it seem as if his surroundings at day were merely a facade that hid something more sinister behind its beauty and peacefulness.

Of course that was a silly thought, sparked only by his colorful imagination and maybe some kind of paranoia as well, but the night always did that to him.

He turned into his street at precisely twelve, already seeing the outlines of their hotel and its unique front that consisted of a black and white squared pattern, just like a chessboard.

The chess pieces, minus the pawns, had been drawn on the building as well in painstaking precision and the hotel's name -Priyome- sat right under the first row in such a way that the King actually served as the dot on the i.

As a majoring art student, Jisung could say it was extremely pleasing and aesthetic to look at and just an overall clever design since it naturally drew people to their hotel.

He wasn't normally someone who liked to sing his own praises, but he had to admit they had done really well in raising this hotel to what it was today, all four of them.

Truthfully, Jeongin had put in the most work, almost always deciding things single-handedly, but Jisung trusted his talent and youthful ideas, and up until now, his friend had never disappointed him.

Chan had regularly put in his input too, mostly when it had come to questions like the layout of the hotel and, seeing how they wanted the hotel to double as their home, how they were going to separate the guests' rooms from their own.

They had all collectively settled for moving their rooms to the two highest floors and making those like a private apartment by building a living room, a kitchen, a gaming room and such that guests didn't have access to.

Jisung was very happy with this arrangement even if he had been quite sceptical at first about literally living in his workplace.

He'd feared guests would be too loud and disturb his sleep at night or wander off into this part of the hotel by mistake and just burst into his room out of nowhere, but Jeongin had installed some sort of security system in the elevators that only allowed them to travel up to the last floors if a key was inserted beneath the panel on the wall and that had been that.

It did leave Jisung wondering what they were going to do when there was a blackout, but he guessed since Jeongin was always prepared for every possible scenario, there was surely a way to get to their floor anyway in that case.

Jisung had to admit Jeongin was very sharp for his age, hence why he was able to lead the whole business in the first place, and why he exceeded him in just about everything, but he wasn't really upset about it.

Jeongin deserved all the praise and admiration Jisung could give him, after all he was the reason Jisung had been able to get his life back together after he had fallen in a hole that had almost swallowed his whole existence.

He'd lost his place at his old university where he had majored in music, he'd lost his best friend who had disappeared from his life without any notice, he'd lost his home, his safety, his freedom, his entire life in a way, all so suddenly that he'd barely had any time to react.

He'd lost it all to a lie that had been so perfectly orchestrated that nobody had even doubted its legitimacy. Not even his friends, not even the people he thought would stand up for him.

Everything he had built up so painstakingly had been taken from him in the matter of mere days, ripped out of his hands with so much force that it had made him bleed and so, as everyone would have, he had fallen into despair, unable to get out of it by himself.

He'd gone through some dark times afterwards, dark times and even darker thoughts that had crept up on him whenever he had spent his nights in a gloomy alley or on a bench in the city, completely defenseless and exposed to the seasons.

He didn't know where he had wandered off to after being released from prison, his surroundings had been completely foreign to him and he hadn't for the life of him been able to navigate back to his apartment or his friends or really anywhere.

It had become more and more unbearable with each passing day that he had to wander around unknown streets, endure people's disgusted and deprecating glares as they pushed him out of their way, the utter amount of filth and dirt on his body and soul making him an unwanted member of society, one that would die miserably in his own shit.

The realization had only pushed him deeper into despair, one step closer to dreadful actions, and he had been so terrified of himself that he had wished for death to take him in his sleep.

But nothing had happened and Jisung had still continued to suffer.

And then, just as he had been about to lose all respect for himself by selling his body in a desperate attempt to make at least enough money to have _one_ regular meal per day, Jeongin had stepped into his life.

He hadn't appeared in an ethereal light, hadn't looked like an angel sent from the heavens, but to Jisung, he might as well have been exactly that.

Because Jeongin had appeared out of nowhere in front of him and had just taken him home like this, even with all the filth and dirt and the lies clinging to his body, tainting everything he touched.

He had provided shelter, food, warmth, company, all without asking for anything in return and even now Jisung couldn't believe that he was really here, living his life freely instead of dying on the streets.

Jeongin had helped him clean his name off the lies that had plagued him and he had done it so easily, so naturally that Jisung couldn't help but be fascinated by him.

He owed his current life almost exclusively to the younger and with that knowledge came the urge to please Jeongin in whichever way he could, the reward yielded that stunning smile of his that always succeeded in making Jisung's heart speed up.

Jeongin had gotten him back on track, even offering him a job in his hotel so he could have a steady income, and Jisung couldn't even put into words how thankful he was to him, the tears he'd shed back then an eternal promise to repay his savior someday.

A few years had passed since he'd made that promise to himself, a few years had passed since he had met the younger, started living lived together with him and Chan, and his life had improved drastically since then. Even if there had been a few setbacks on the way.

He was in the middle of his dream again. Their dream.

Jeongin's dream.

The wind picked up, blowing Jisung's wet hair into his face and snapping him back to reality.

Right. He should probably get inside.

He hurried over to the front entrance and produced the key from his pocket, his key chain, a black bishop, dangling freely as he unlocked the door.

Of course Jeongin had designed their key chains too, his attention to even the smallest details admirable, and it made Jisung's chest swell with pride every time he looked at it because this key chain symbolized him belonging to a family.

He'd had a family before, a biological one, but somehow, he felt as if he didn't need them anymore.

They hadn't believed him when he'd been accused of horrible deeds, opting for cutting him out of their life, and it had hurt at first, every dismissive word like a stab in the chest, every ignored text message a slap across the face, every denial of his existence a push down the abyss.

But he was okay now.

He had healed.

He was free from the toxic influence that had continuously ripped away at his soul and instead he was in company of caring friends who did everything for him and whom he trusted unconditionally in return.

All was well.

He pushed against the door, immediately noticing the soft flicker of a few candles on the reception desk that were faintly illuminating the foyer, as well as the chess pieces that were standing around. Their shadows stretched out almost creepily along the two tiled floor, but he'd gotten used to the sight to the point where he wasn't scared anymore, so he merely let a smile grace his lips as he walked through the foyer.

Jeongin always made sure to leave some candles for him, knowing how terrifying the dark could be to Jisung and it was Jisung's responsibility to blow them out when he came home.

The candles had burned down a lot more than usual, probably the result of him staying out so long, and a feeling of guilt gnawed at his heart as he suffocated the little flames one by one, his surroundings getting shrouded in darkness more and more with every source of light that disappeared.

When it was completely dark again, Jisung's anxiety spiked, a shudder running down his back as he hurried towards the general direction of the elevator.

His shaking fingers nervously felt along the wall until he found the buttons and he pressed them, relief washing over him when the elevator doors opened right away and light poured into the foyer once more.

He hated the dark. Everything about it just freaked him out.

He really wished Jeongin would leave the actual lights on in the foyer instead of just the candles, but the younger had told him that the bills would get too high if he did that and that had been the end of that discussion.

Jisung understood, of course he did, though it did leave him wondering how much money their hotel actually made if they couldn't afford to keep the lights on a little longer than necessary.

He'd always guessed they were well-off, but then again, Jeongin was the one who handled the finances and therefore, he had to know best.

So Jisung had relented.

He always did.

The elevator door closed behind him as he stepped inside, the blinking panel requesting him to disclose his destination, but he ignored it, pulling out the heavy silver key Jeongin had made for them and inserting it into a keyhole below the panel.

Turning it a quarter to the left brought him to the first floor of their home where the kitchen was, along with several living rooms, a gaming room and a room used for washing and ironing clothes.

Most of which was Chan's responsibility.

It wasn't like Jisung was unable to wash his own clothes, he wasn't _that_ incompetent after all, but Jeongin had told him to stay away from this room, so he did.

He always gathered all his dirty clothes in a pile and Chan picked them up at the end of the week, returning them to Jisung's room the next day or so.

Sometimes, there was a weird smell to his clothes, especially the whites, but Chan had been quick to explain to him that it was hydrogen peroxide which was used to whiten and brighten the fabric and that he shouldn't worry too much about it.

This explanation sat well with Jisung, although he had the distant feeling that a teacher at his old university had once illustrated another purpose of hydrogen peroxide.

He'd sat in a criminology lecture back then, credits to his old friend Hyunjin who had majored in that very same subject and who had convinced Jisung into spending his day off with him, and he remembered being creeped out by all these statistics about murder and kidnapping and all things bad while Hyunjin had listened intently, passionate eyes reflecting the need to bring justice to the world.

His heart clenched painfully at the memory of Hyunjin and he shook his head to get his thoughts focused elsewhere.

He should really stop remembering his past life so much.

Jeongin said that all the time too and he was so right because what good did it do to think about the boy who had been dead for years now?

He only brought himself pain if he pondered everything he could have done differently because at the end of the day, he _couldn't_ go back. And it was not like he wanted that anyway.

His current life was perfect as it was.

He could disregard his past. He was meant to do so.

Jisung turned the key a quarter to the right and the elevator slowly took him to the second floor of their home where the bedrooms were, the bedrooms and their personal hobby rooms.

Chan's studio with the comfy couch where Jisung liked to nap on while the older worked on his music.

Jeongin's study with the shelves full of books and the spacious terrace where he wasn't really allowed in but still adored nonetheless.

His own atelier with paintbrushes and empty canvases lying around everywhere to the point where he had to pin his school assignments on the walls so he wouldn't lose track of them.

And of course his favorite place to be – the photo gallery with the neat pictures of different cities and landscapes one of their colleagues - Mark - took on his various travels.

Truth be told, Mark wasn't home much, always out of the country for business, so Jisung mostly left him out of his thinking when it came to the hotel, but he was no doubt a vital part of their team, responsible for all affairs Jeongin wasn't able to attend to due to his busy schedule.

He was like their coordinator for overseas, as well as their big brother who didn't live at home anymore, and ever since he had gotten a boyfriend too, he had even less time to drop by and see how things were going.

When Mark _was_ there however, it was always the best part of Jisung's day because the older would bring him gifts from all around the world and show him cute pictures of animals he had encountered.

He had actually been the one to introduce Jisung to the beauty of Jeju Island by taking him there on a business trip and Jisung could still recall sitting at the edge of the water every day and peacefully watching the sunset.

He couldn't wait to get back there again.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal a brightly lit hallway, the ceiling lights shedding their warm glow on the pictures that hung to either side on the wall, some of them related to chess, some just pretty landscapes.

Leaning against one of the doors that lead to his bedroom, _he_ was waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest in a casual manner, red hair falling into his face and the faintest trace of a victorious smile on his lips.

Jisung's heart instantly accelerated in excitement and he stepped out of the elevator the moment Jeongin began to speak.

''Hey, Jisung.''

He had a nice voice, clear and modulated and appealing and Jisung felt as if he would do anything as long as Jeongin kept talking, the deep-seated urge to always be around him and bathe in his presence overwhelming.

The younger entranced him by simply existing, simply being himself and with every word, every smile, every gesture Jisung found himself spiralling down further into his maknae's loving being.

Jeongin's smile widened a little, perfectly aware of the way Jisung admired him as he motioned for him to come closer.

As soon as he was within arms length, Jeongin pulled him into an embrace, ruffling his hair and pressing him into his chest.

Jisung's skin was on fire where he was in contact with Jeongin and he leaned into the familiar touch, allowing the warmth to envelop him as a content sigh escaped his lips.

He liked this.

''Welcome home'', Jeongin said in a hushed tone, his words accompanied by soft strokes through Jisung's hair.

Jisung agreed.

He was home.


	3. [White Bishop]

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**Player ''WHITE'' has entered the board.** _

_''English lesson #25: Modal verbs.''_

Minho had known what he was getting himself into when he chose English as his major.

He wasn't even going to lie.

He had seen the university's programs and different majors when he had first applied, knowing he wouldn't have to settle on anything until the end of his sophomore year.

Child studies, animal biology, music, dancing, the choices had all been there for him to take, all intriguing in their own way and all infinitely more interesting than, say, _English_.

Especially music and dancing had drawn him in almost right away, even if it had been with a bitter taste, and he had spent hours looking through the program and courses, imagining himself amidst a group of like-minded and enthusiastic young adults ready to take the world by storm by pursuing their dreams of making music.

_''Other forms or tenses, and notablyconditionals, are formed with the help of modal verbs: can, could, may, might, would, plus must, should and ought to.''_

Minho had always liked dancing.

For as long as he could remember, he had choreographed dances purely for his own enjoyment and later on, he had even started to write tunes and lyrics as well to go along with them.

Dancing was his passion, as was music, so there was really no reason not to choose one of these for his major, especially since he already had years of experience in this field.

It could have been such an easy-going and captivating study for him and while every fiber in his body had pushed him to choose dance, he knew he would never be able to enter a single of his classes without fighting down his bile, without hating himself for completely ruining the one thing he loved most in the universe.

It was ruined already, the shards of his dream lying at his feet, discarded and broken beyond recognition, but he still held an absurd belief that his dream could fix itself if he left it alone for long enough.

Choosing dance had never really been a choice for him.

Not with his mind continuously reminding him where he was coming from and pushing him to escape the confines of his own choices that had lead him nowhere except down a neverending spiral of self-hatred and regret.

So English it had been.

He had known he was probably going to have a hard time learning all the different rules and vocabulary and he had known that he was going to fall behind in his class because he simply lacked the enthusiasm for the major and because he'd never spoken more than a few words of English in his entire life.

But he had still applied for exactly this major.

He supposed there had been other options for him, better ones, easier ones, but that hadn't mattered to him because none of the others could give him what he had yearned for.

None of the others were as foreign to him as English, as difficult and inscrutable to the point where he felt as if he was escaping from his own mind whenever he spoke in that language.

As if he was becoming a new person.

A new persona of himself, capable of breaking the chains he had locked on himself and finally getting rid of the greed that had collared him, dragging him down into hell where he had barely escaped from with his life.

For him, hell had evolved from being a physical place into being a vague feeling of dread creeping up on him, into ghostly touches on his arms and a snickering, devilish voice whispering in his ear.

Hell was getting up in the morning and not seeing a reason to keep going while at the same time clinging to his pathetic hope that one day, things would turn around for him.

Not that they ever did.

He never awoke from this nightmare of his, it followed him into his sleep and into reality, always bringing painful memories with it that he would much rather just tune out.

After a while, it hadn't been a matter of wanting to escape his own mind to avoid them, it had become a matter of _needing_ to so he wouldn't go insane.

And if English was the way to do it, he happily suffered through the lessons without understanding and willingly put himself through hours upon hours of self-learning videos just to be able to write down a single sentence.

It wasn't efficient. It wasn't smart. It wasn't beneficial.

He knew that and yet, he couldn't ask the others in his class for help because that meant exposing his insecurities.

Exposing why he had picked English. Exposing his life and everything that had lead up to him making that decision.

They would know.

They would piece all the little clues together that Minho hadn't been able to properly hide and _they would know_.

It terrified Minho.

So he preferred his way of doing things, retiring into the furthest corner of the library, plugging in his earphones and going through online English lessons until he found something that would help him with the homework that was spread out on the floor in front of him.

_''Consecutive verbs, also called catenative verbs or linked verbs...''_

Minho bit his pencil in concentration, repeating the words out loud as if that would help him to understand them better. His gaze remained fixed on the assignment he had been given while he did so, a constant reminder of the deadline he was expected to meet.

_Write an essay about English verbs until next lesson (at least five pages)._

Five pages. In English.

To be blunt, Minho had freaked out the first time he read over the task, almost ready to pass out and never wake up again or maybe even crawl back to the one thing he was running from, but by some miracle, he'd managed to stay composed and, after a few deep breaths, he had gathered his books and dragged himself over here with the intention to get this shit done.

It was supposed to be an easy homework, only five pages after all, and his classmates had expressed as much, cheering and laughing on their way out as they had made plans for the weekend.

Sure, for someone who was naturally gifted in reading and writing in this language, it had to be a walk in the park to spit out a five paged essay, but for Minho, it might as well have been the end of the world.

He'd already mentally bid his farewell to his precious sleep, knowing he had to push through the entire weekend nonstop if he even wanted to stand a chance of turning this in on time.

It filled him with dread knowing there were going to be much more challenging assignments ahead in the future, not to mention mid-terms and finals, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it.

For now, verbs.

_''Modal verbs of ability are used to express two types of ability – open possibility and potential ability, also known as authority.''_

Minho noted that down without really getting it, but what else was new.

He'd figure it out eventually and even if he didn't, he could always hope to bullshit his way through this task and more importantly, through this goddamn major.

Because at the end of his struggles was a year abroad in Australia and even if it wasn't that far from here, it was far enough for him to try and make the effort.

A new country. A new identity. A new beginning.

He could do this.

_''Attention! Take care to distinguish correctly between 'could not' and 'cannot have'.''_

He stopped the lesson, frowning as he reached for his 'How to speak basic English' book, intending to find what exactly the difference was between these two phrases.

''Could not... cannot have...'', he mumbled absentmindedly, not noticing the shadow that casted over his books until he heard someone clearing their throat.

Minho removed his earphones and looked up to see a young boy standing in front of him, blond hair messy and a contagious smile on his face as he crouched down to Minho's level.

''Modal verbs?'', he asked and Minho just blankly stared at him for a second, his heart accelerating slightly as his brain was unable to make the connection or give him any sort of information about the boy and why the hell he had suddenly appeared in front of him like this.

He was way too close for Minho's liking, one meter away at most, and his breath hitched, his throat closing up on him as a response.

It was uncomfortable. So uncomfortable.

The boy was in his personal space, the only space left for him where he could safely _exist_ , and he was invading it, claiming it as his own, pushing Minho out of it.

It had taken a long time for him to reclaim this tiny piece of safety and now this stranger came along and just took it from him again. Like _they_ had.

Them with their ghostly touches and devilish snickers and fake comfort whenever the camera had been on.

The camera.

Minho shivered at the mere thought of that camera and a wave of nausea crashed over him.

The red blinking light that taunted him with the knowledge of just what it had filmed came to his mind, at first merely as a taunting image in his head.

But of course it never stayed that way for long.

A red light peeked through the bookshelf, directing its penetrating stare at him as another one appeared near the door, blocking his only means of escape.

A third one danced at the ceiling and Minho followed it with his eyes, a heavy pressure on his chest preventing him from taking much more than ragged breaths as his nails dug into the carpet below him.

Why the hell couldn't they leave him alone?

What did they want?

_''Minho...''_

They called out to him, they always did.

He shut his eyes and shook his head in a desperate attempt to block his hallucination out, to try and get the red lights to disappear from his mind for good, but he should have known that he would never be able to get away from them.

From them and their ghostly touches and their grins and their laughter as they shoved the camera into his face, knowing how much he hated it.

_''Won't you smile for the camera, huh, ---?''_

No. No, he wouldn't smile for their fucking camera.

He wouldn't smile and pretend he was okay with this, with that, with _everything_. Not while his very core was falling apart right that moment.

There was a burning in his throat, almost as if hands were pressing down on it and tears pricked at the corners of his still closed eyes because it was all too much.

He just wanted it to stop. Stop.

''Are you okay? Hey, can you hear me? Hey?''

Pain spread all throughout Minho's body, phantom pain from being handled too roughly once more, and his head hurt where they had pulled at his hair back then, wrenching his head up in such an unnatural angle after he had collapsed on the floor.

_''Did you forget that I own you?''_

Something warm slid down his face, a disgusting mix of their spit and his tears.

He had never forgotten.

''I didn't.''

His voice was unstable.

His hands went up to his throat, trying to rid himself of the suffocating feeling present there, but it was clinging to his skin like a parasite, unwilling to let go of the prey it had caught so brilliantly with just a few sweet words and empty promises.

''You didn't? You didn't _what?_ Talk to me!''

A touch ghosted over his arm and Minho's eyes snapped open in alarm, almost getting blinded by the dozens upon dozens of red lights blinking at him from everywhere.

And worse yet, the cameras.

They had manifested out of thin air at the ceiling, their lenses all aimed at him, sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint he always saw in their eyes as well.

He couldn't breathe.

The edges of his vision greyed out and heat rushed to his face as a choked sob escaped him, but the worst part was undoubtedly the grip on his arm, recalling all the dreadful events he had never been able to forget.

_''Listen here, you little shit.''_

It always started with a simple grip, enough to make him tense up and flinch away, fearing he had done something again that had upset them somehow.

Like not being pretty enough.

Not having a charming smile.

Not having eyes where the entire universe was reflected in.

Not being able to make the most out of his talents.

Not being able to keep himself from making mistakes.

Not being good enough in comparison to others.

And the worst one.

Being tired. Hungry. Depressed. Having any feelings at all.

Those were all serious offenses and he had paid with his body for committing them, with his body and his mental health and his sanity.

_''I don't think you're being grateful enough.''_

They always said this and Minho always agreed.

Not agreeing was never an option if he didn't want to set himself up for forceful touches and humiliating pictures, for cruel laughter as they toyed around with his life and his dreams and for getting dragged off towards that room.

''Please just calm down, I wanna help, just--''

The boy was still there, right in his field of view as he lightly shook Minho's arm in an attempt to force a reaction out of him.

He looked panicked, his face strangely pale as his eyes scanned over Minho's body to identify what exactly was the problem.

But he wouldn't find anything.

_''Would you look at that, it's almost completely healed.''_

Everything healed eventually. Everything but Minho.

Images of that room flashed in his mind.

The flickering lights that needed fixing.

The door that was much more secure than it looked.

The absence of his voice.

The pain spreading throughout his entire body.

The camera.

Oh god, the _camera_.

He remembered the night so vividly, the nasty bruises on his skin inflicted upon him with all the ferocity of a wild animal, the cuts that had burned from the sweat dripping down his body and the headache from a well landed blow to the side of his head.

He remembered the mirror in the room, fogged up to the point where he couldn't make out his reflection anymore. Not that he had wanted to anyway, knowing that the only thing staring back at him would be despair.

He remembered the hoarse scream he had let loose, only serving to bring more pain and wounds, and yet he could never quite stop himself from screaming or crying or making noise. It reminded him that he was alive.

Even if that had been hard to believe.

He remembered the continued clicking of the camera and him shying away from it, trying to hide his body to the best of his abilities, trying not to give the people he knew were going to receive these pictures even more material of him looking so helpless and defeated. God knew they had enough evidence of how weak he was.

The pictures had probably found their way to the internet by now, seen by dozens of people as they indulged in his suffering, but he wasn't angry anymore.

He was just tired.

Tired of being forced into something, tired of being ordered around as if he was nothing more than a slave, tired of having the fulfillment of his basic human needs treated as if it was some sort of luxury that had to be earned.

He didn't want to think about any of it anymore. Never again.

His control slipped between his fingers like sand and he felt a muted scream clawing its way up his throat, causing even more pressure to build up in his head.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't.

He was hurting all over, there were tears running down his cheeks, cameras grinning at him, hands touching him and red lights blinking at him and it was so annoyingly frustrating because he'd thought he was over it.

''Hey...''

A hand found its way to his cheek, wiping at his tears even as Minho flinched away from the contact, trying to escape the ghostly touches and the devilish grins and _them_.

''Fuck off'', he choked out, hoping it sounded at least somewhat threatening as his hands pushed the other male away from him with a strength that was so incredibly pathetic that he wanted to hate himself.

His voice was hoarse and barely working in general, every word painful as it fought its way through his throat.

''Hey, please just listen to me for a second...''

Warmth descended on him and Minho's body immediately reared up in alarm at the sensation of being hugged, being _touched_ without his consent.

Not again. _Not again._

''Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, _fuck off!_ ''

He was panicking, he knew that, and even as he tried to get himself to calm down and take deep breaths, he found that it was impossible.

He couldn't calm down as long as the cameras were staring at him, watching his every move, gathering material that they could always hang over him when they felt like ruining his life.

Or what was left of it.

His body was shaking, completely overwhelmed from the boy's warmth enveloping it and even if Minho didn't want to admit it to himself, it _helped_.

The boy drew circles on his back, pulled Minho's head to his chest, tried to shush him, and while there still was a rabbit-paced heartbeat pounding in his temples, he noticed that he was unconsciously trying to slow his breathing down to imitate the steady rising and falling of the chest that was pressed against his.

''Relax.''

His voice had lost the panicked tone, instead taking on a weirdly deep and comforting sound, and he found himself easing into the hands that threaded through his hair, needing the comfort in whatever way it would come.

At the back of his mind, a tiny voice was mocking him that he was seeking warmth from a complete stranger, asking him if he'd learnt nothing from his trip to hell, but he was too tired to listen to it.

He was too tired to listen to anything.

Had he been a bit more himself, he surely would have pulled away from the hug, snarled at the boy for touching him and maybe even shoved him into the next wall to get his point across, but he simply wasn't himself right now.

He hadn't been for a long time.

Wouldn't be for a long time.

The two of them remained in their position a little while longer which helped Minho tremendously in correctly matching his breathing to the boy's and as he did so, he noticed himself getting calmer, his head clearing up and his vision sharpening until he could see his surroundings again.

_Really_ see his surroundings was more like it.

Because as his gaze wandered through the library, taking note of the polished shelves with all their colorful books, the reading corner with a few tables and warm lamps placed on them, and even the newly painted ceiling, he realized that there were no red lights or cameras to be seen anywhere.

Relief washed over him and after he had confirmed with himself that he was good to go in terms of trying to stand up, he slowly rose from the floor, the boy steadying him anyway.

Which was a nice gesture. But nothing more than that.

''Are you okay again?'', he asked, patting Minho's back as he lead him over to one of the tables in the corner. ''Here, let's sit down for a second, yeah?''

It was only a few steps, but Minho found himself gripping the boy's hand after the first one, afraid that his legs were going to give out from under him.

He would certainly hate himself later for being so dependent on someone else's aid, especially someone he didn't know, but for just this one moment, it was fine.

He dropped on a chair, his face scrunching up for a few seconds at the feeling of the hard wood under him that was far less comfortable than the carpeted ground he sat on before while the boy went to pick up Minho's books.

Minho almost scoffed.

As if he could concentrate on his stupid homework right now.

The mere thought was enough to give him nausea all over again.

The boy seemed to be doing homework too, judging by the opened laptop that sat on the table, and Minho curiously examined the screen.

By the looks of it, the other male was in the middle of designing some abstract visual composition of whites and blacks in front of a colorful background.

There were black and white vertical strokes on the canvas, the black always shorter than the white, and they had been arranged in such a way that they were forming a light curve across the screen.

It took a moment for him to understand, but once he did, he couldn't resist the smile that slipped on his face.

Those were the tiles of a piano, arranged in a way that resembled a rainbow.

Grasping the meaning of this wasn't easy, not even for Minho who had spent a great part of his life learning and playing the piano.

All he could say was that it looked pretty cool.

And that the boy was probably a graphic design major.

Heaven knew what these guys were doing.

''You like it?''

He visibly jumped upon hearing the boy's voice so close and his expression morphed into guilt at having looked at this piece of art without permission.

''Sorry.''

He shifted in his seat, eyes fixed on one of his books that had been placed in front of him.

_The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation._

''But yeah. I like it, it's nice.''

The boy simply waved his apology off as he fell into the seat next to Minho's, closing the program he had used for his design before turning to face him once more.

''Oh, by the way, I'm Felix. Nice to meet you.''

Names. Oh god.

Minho swallowed uneasily.

He had to introduce himself, it was suspicious if he didn't, but he felt the fear crawl up his spine regardless.

''Minho.''

He held his breath as soon as the name left his lips, sounding just as foreign and uncomfortable as it had when he'd first signed up for university.

It didn't sound like his name, but it was exactly that, his birth certificate all the proof he had needed to confirm it to himself.

Maybe it was so strange to him because he hadn't been called Minho for years.

There were faint memories of his parents, old friends, calling him like this before he had thrown his life away in favor of embracing the lies and promises he had been fed, but it was difficult to properly remember any of these times.

All he had known for years upon years was cold and informal treatment, his name never once leaving his tormenters' mouths and in a way, he was glad for that because it meant that this particular name had never been tainted with the misery he had experienced at the hands of these people.

Minho was still pure. Minho was still untouched. Minho was still unknown.

Back then, they had taken Minho from him, saying he was of no use anymore and that he should just forget him.

They had taken his name, saying it was not to be his anymore and for an awfully long time, he had accepted that.

For an awfully long time, they had controlled him, his identity, his pockets, his freedom, his... life? Had that been life?

He didn't think so and that was precisely the reason why he had finally called it quits.

Why he had dug out the name that wasn't his anymore from the grave he had tossed it in. Because it was the only thing he still had.

Minho was free.

It was a free name for a free person and still, after it had been discarded for this long, it was weird using the name again. Like he was just a made up character.

But he wasn't. This was him.

So why was it that he still felt so restless saying this name?

''Minho?'', Felix repeated, testing out how it sounded on his tongue.

Minho could understand. He had done the same thing when he had first moved into his tiny ass apartment and saw the mirror that had been left behind by the previous owners in the bedroom.

He had hung it on his closet, so that he would see himself every time he chose his outfits, and had just remained in front of it for a few seconds, taking in his appearance that had seemed so perfectly normal, yet so perfectly broken at the same time.

He didn't have any visible bruises on him anymore, but he didn't need to be a genius to figure out that something had changed in his mentality.

Something was wrong with him.

It didn't feel like he was the same person he had been before and the longer he had stared at his reflection, the more present this feeling had gotten.

He hadn't known the person standing there, the one that had been looking back at him with a blank face, eyes telling of so many unshed fears and even more bitter truths, but he felt like he _had_ known them at some point.

_''My name is Minho''_ , he had told that person and they had frowned, he had caught them frowning at him, seemingly unsure whether to protest or accept the words leaving his mouth.

Even now, he was still unsure, but he tried not to show it to anyone.

Least of all himself.

_''Is this really your name?''_

It had felt weird talking to that person and yet, at the same time, it had been almost therapeutic.

_''It is.''_

The smile he had forced onto his face had been unstable, crumbling after a few seconds and tears had sprung to his eyes instead, blurring his sight and the mirror and himself.

Tears of joy or tears of fear? He wasn't sure yet and he didn't think he ever would be.

He still had a long way to go.

He had barely moved from where he had started because he was so afraid of letting that familiarity go that had chained him to that place, but he wanted to believe that he would break free of his hesitation eventually.

He would make it someday. He would get there.

He wasn't okay yet, not by a long shot, but he'd manage.

''I like your name.''

Yes, Minho did too.


	4. [White Pawn]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun drinking game: Take a shot every time you read ''Lixie'' in this chapter.
> 
> Also, @Bine: I do know Alice in Wonderland isn't technically a fairy tale, but let's pretend here for a second.

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**''WHITE'' has an isolated pawn.** _

_''Lixie.''_

For Felix, home meant Australia.

It meant sun and insufferable heat, extreme weather changes, dangerous wildlife and isolation from the rest of the world, yes, but it meant just as much an easy-going and diverse set of people, freedom and familiarity.

When he wandered the streets of Sydney, he felt like he knew every single person he came across, felt like he could approach them like a friend even with the most random of questions because he knew they didn't mind.

He'd made a lot of precious memories in Australia, most of them still feeling so fresh in his mind even after almost three years of studying in Korea.

Fishing off the rocks on a remote and desolate coast, the gentle wind blowing his strands into his face, the air tasting of salt and summer and fondness as he hummed his favorite song.

Saving a family of fat-tailed dunnarts from where they had gotten stuck in an old hay shack that had burst into flames, their tiny bodies pressing into Felix's hand in fear as he had gotten them to safety, their terrified squeaks barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

Travelling through the outback with some friends, the hot and dry surroundings all around them somehow still bursting with life as they snapped picture after picture to compile in an album later.

Watching and learning about the thriving flora and the beauty of nature, snatching some leaves from the Illawarra Flame Tree to preserve in his album, even knowing that their scent would only irritate his skin and throat.

Just a few examples of moments he could see vividly every time he closed his eyes, always coupled with a chuckle and faint brushes on his skin, the contact addicting and sweet as a soft breath tickled his ear.

_''Lixie.''_

Home meant Australia because _he_ was there.

Whenever he thought of his home country, _he_ came to mind, his smile so bright that it rivaled the sun and his goofy laugh bouncing off the walls every time he was unable to contain his amusement.

He was slightly younger than Felix, but that had never stopped him from acting as if he was the adult and neither had it stopped Felix from playfully teasing him when he was being too serious again.

It was all fun and games with him, even with the most simple of things, like watching a movie on the big screen in Felix's living room, lazing around while making fun of all the cliché lines and cringy scenes.

Playing a friendly yet intense match of tennis on school grounds in between some classes, sometimes not even noticing the ring of the bell until a teacher bellowed at them to get back to class.

Almost burning Felix's kitchen down by broiling marshmellows on high and then getting distracted by an announcement of their favorite game developer on TV.

And of course touches ghosting over his arm, heated cheeks from one too many dubious stares and kisses on his forehead in the middle of the night when he thought Felix was asleep.

And always that affectionate nickname.

_''Lixie, sit down for a second, please.''_

Felix would have been lying if he had said he didn't expect that talk.

It was long overdue, he knew that, and yet he had always found a way to excuse himself up until now, carefully storing the application for university away in his secret box to be forgotten.

His parents didn't know and neither was he supposed to, but somehow he had figured it out because there he was, an unusually serious expression on his face and the document in his hand.

_''Lixie, why don't you want to study graphic design anymore?''_

He'd used to go on and on about it whenever the topic had been brought up.

He'd specifically trained how to write his application, time and time again because he had really wanted it to work.

He'd made a whole folder composed of various examples and concept pictures to submit with his application, carefully choosing which of his works he liked best.

He'd used to.

_''I have my reasons.''_

It was about as much as he had been willing to say.

The torn up pictures in the trash should have told him everything he needed to know anyway.

_''Lixie.''_

It had been the end of that conversation, at least as far as Felix had been concerned, but he should have known better.

The sigh he had heaved should have told him that this wasn't the end of it.

Not by a long shot.

_''Lixie.''_

His voice had sounded so honeyed back then, every word pronounced with purpose as he had taken a hold of Felix's hand, pulling him over to sit on the bed in his room instead of the chair he had previously been in.

Felix had liked his room. It had been home.

He had liked the soft pillows spread out on the bed, the starry wallpaper on the walls, the fairy lights draped over the closet. Most of all though, he had liked the fact that it had been _his_ room.

It had smelled like him. Like flowers and eucalyptus and coconuts and love.

_''Lixie, I'm going to Korea.''_

_''What? Why?''_

The night before Felix had planned to apply for Sydney's biggest university, he had dropped the news on him, almost as if destiny had arranged for his plans to go to shit.

_''I want to study music.''_

His fingers had threaded through Felix's hair lovingly and he had wanted to melt on the spot as he'd nuzzled into the touch, starved for affection like he always was.

_''You can study music here.''_

_''Lixie.''_

It had been said flat. Strained. Emotionless.

Whenever he spoke like this, Felix knew it was futile to try and convince him otherwise, but still, he had _tried_ because he couldn't imagine losing him.

He had let out a whine, letting his hands travel up his bare arms, knowing how much he liked it, but there had barely been a reaction.

_''Lixie, please. Don't make this harder than it has to be. You'll be fine without me. You'll make new friends. New best friends. It's fine.''_

His voice had broken and when Felix had looked up at his face, he had noticed the tears, a steady and silent stream leaking out of his eyes.

It obviously hadn't been an easy decision for him. Not at all.

He'd felt so sorry, wanting to take his pain away any way he could, yet there hadn't been anything he could have said.

His eyes had started burning with tears as well and he had averted his gaze, wiping his face with the sleeve of his pullover.

_''It's not fine.''_

He had cupped Felix's cheeks, not even bothering to hide his tears as he'd leaned in, close and closer, but never going all the way.

His hot breath had tickled Felix's lips and their foreheads had pressed together, but the gap had never been closed and Felix had been left hanging as he had nervously licked his lips, his eyes darting from side to side in order to avoid eye contact.

He had wanted it. He really had.

But he hadn't been sure if he felt the same way too.

_''Lixie, look at me, will you?''_

He hadn't looked. He hadn't dared to, scared of breaking the moment.

Scared of discovering something in his eyes that told him what he hadn't wanted to know.

A long moment had passed like this, both of them frozen in place, barely daring to breathe, before he had pulled away, leaving Felix with a vague sense of disappointment and a heart that had been trying to jump out of his chest.

_''I'm going to Korea.''_

_''Okay.''_

He had nodded. Nodded and nodded as if that would help him get rid of the decision he had made right that moment.

_''I'm coming with you.''_

It had been an impulsive choice and they had both known it.

_''Let's have some tea together first. Please think about this.''_

A pause. A pause as he'd left him hanging like this.

A pause as he'd left him yearning for the nickname.

The nickname he adored just because he always called him that.

_''Lixie.''_

''Lix? You there?''

Felix was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts at the sudden sound of that amused voice and he almost jumped in his skin, his heart stopping for a moment before he realized where he was and why he was here.

The high shelves around him, the soft whispers filtering through the air as students quietly chattered with each other a bit further off, the masses of papers lying in front of him on the table...

Right.

The library.

He was in the library, his go to place to think and get some work done since that proved to be impossible in the joke of a dorm he currently resided in with his two other awful roommates.

To cut matters short, they were philanthropists, always looking to sleep around with more and more people, and the students at university _knew_ this.

The amount of times Felix had opened the door to some stranger wanting to get off was ridiculous, as was the amount of times he had been complimented on his looks by said strangers right before they had asked him if he could give them a hand.

No. Just no.

His roommates could fuck whoever they desired, but he wanted to be left out of that shit.

He'd expressed as much when he'd first been forced to room with them, but to their credit, they were somewhat understanding and mostly remembered to give him a heads-up beforehand so he could withdraw into the library to get his work done in peace.

Oh and work he had to get done.

His hand came up to rub his forehead, a sigh tearing from his lips as he reached out to look over the papers again that had been set down in front of him.

He really fucking hated the collaborations the university kept insisting on dumping on them.

On top of his already existing homework, mind you.

He couldn't recall how it had started, only that one day, out of nowhere, the art majors had burst into his animation class and their teacher had demanded for them to put their work aside and listen to a new project they had been planning.

The project turned out to be some charity fundraiser the university wanted to do and for the next two weeks, Felix had spent his time designing flyers against domestic violence and painting banners to hang in the hallways and sell to other universities who wanted to participate but were too lazy to make their own damn banners.

The graphic design and art majors had carried that whole fundraiser out by themselves, but the university had been the one to pocket the funds without even so much as a thanks to them and it didn't sit well with Felix.

Ever since that time, it had become somewhat of a regular thing and there was not a single student who was actually happy with this arrangement.

But nonetheless, here he was anyway with Jisung, one of the art majors, working out the theme of this year's senior graduation.

It wasn't the usual job which he guessed he should be thankful for, but then again, it also wasn't the easiest one either.

Their university was well known for hosting some of the most splendid graduation parties, so the amount of pressure that had been put on them for this job was immense and the fact that the hardest part had been handed to the two of them wasn't really improving their situation.

Whereas other groups had been tasked with coming up with simple concept ideas, choosing catering services and making flyers for the event, it was up to Jisung and him to present a whole ass visual composition of the concepts another group had come up with by the end of next week.

Felix wasn't a fan of doing that kind of work with little to no help at all, especially not with the seven million pages of homework and three essays he had due, but nobody asked for his opinion anyway.

University was great.

At least Jisung was fun to be around.

He always got paired up with the boy for projects like these, either due to the fact that their minds worked quite similarly or because the teachers were too lazy to form new teams, but Felix wasn't bothered by this arrangement.

In fact, working with Jisung and seeing his refreshing and cool ideas was probably the only good thing to come out of this collaboration.

Well, that and the fact that the the concepts they had been handed by the other group were somewhat manageable this time.

_'Something that doesn't exist.'_

There were endless possibilities they could take this concept in.

They could take it literally and design the interior of the gym where the seniors would be like a dreamworld with monsters and other creatures and have fog wafting around their bodies, creating an illusion.

They could take a more sinister approach, ask the seniors what their lost childhood dreams were or if they could even remember them and turn the gym into a dead memory of people who never got to exist because of society's cruel ways.

Or they could take it with a philosophical aspect and get the seniors really thinking about what actually existed and what didn't, turn their beliefs upside down and throw them into an emotional crisis.

_''Knowledge is the greatest of all delusions. Knowledge doesn't exist.''_

That idea in particular had struck Felix and he had already pictured the gym decorated with book shelves and cozy fairy lights, soft melodies playing from a piano in the corner while groups of people sat huddled together under blankets.

And then he had realized that no one would like that concept for their graduation except him.

So back to the drawing board it was.

Felix sighed again and stared at the canvas on his laptop, the one that was nearly blank save for two words he had scribbled in the middle, trying to force inspiration out of himself to practically no avail.

_My sleep._

''They wanted something that doesn't exist'', he huffed, gesturing at the screen in annoyance. ''There it is.''

Jisung chuckled, sorting through the vague explanations the other group had unhelpfully put underneath their concepts, his inspiration also not really taking off right now.

''I don't think they'll approve of your idea though.''

''That's not exactly my problem, is it? I did my part.''

He shrugged nonchalantly, but erased the words anyway.

It was true, he couldn't care less about the senior's graduation and he was pretty sure neither did they, but it wasn't fair to Jisung to slack off during this assignment and cause him to get a bad grade, so he tried his best to keep himself motivated for both of their sakes.

Okay. Deep breath.

Something that didn't exist.

He let his mind wander as he reread the concepts they already had, trying to come up with something original, something fun, something that even stuck up and lazy seniors would enjoy.

But what _did_ they enjoy?

From his own experience, from the way they walked around on campus and from the way they chatted with each other, they seemed to like everything dark and gloomy, their outlook on life mostly pessimistic.

They seemed to like death and despair, existential crisis and fears of the future, angst and unhappy ends.

The words 'unhappy end' bounced around in his head and suddenly, an idea struck him so violently that he gasped, his hand moving all on its own and whipping up a design so effortlessly that he wondered why he always got stuck on normal homework.

Jisung curiously watched him work on the design, the pencil he was holding tapping on the table every now and then.

About halfway through, he seemed to realize what Felix was going for and with a gasp of his own, he went to attack his notebook, furiously sketching some of his ideas as well.

For a while, they worked like that, Felix digitally and Jisung traditionally on paper, only the barest minimum of words exchanged between them as they were both too immersed in their own designs, but eventually, it was done and as Felix hit the save button on his computer, he just knew the graduates were going to love it.

_And they all lived unhappily ever after._

It was morbid, especially considering the context of a graduation, but this was exactly what he wanted to go for.

A dream turning evil. Hope swallowed by despair.

Excitement turning into emptiness.

Fairy tales becoming nightmares.

Something that 'didn't exist' in the books all children loved to read, something that only became visible later on when the stories were looked at with a somber and depressing outlook.

Perfect.

In fact, it was so perfect that he almost didn't want to give this theme to someone else and instead keep it for his own graduation, but of course since this was a graded assignment, he couldn't do that.

''What do you think? Did I do okay?'', Jisung asked, shoving his sketches over to him almost shyly.

While Felix liked to work with character designs and everything alike as much as possible, Jisung had specialized in drawing environments and interior decoration, making the two of them a dangerous threat when put together.

Felix was always blown away by the things Jisung came up with and this time was no different as he took in the sight of their gym, decorated to look like a forest, the mirror ball at the ceiling serving as the moon and pretty laterns lining the way to the stage they would set up.

The buffet was off to the side and included many fairy tale specific foods like an apple pie for Snow White, a pumpkin soup for Cinderella and butternut squash bread, a food that Jisung absolutely adored, for Little Red Riding Hood.

In the middle was a space meant for dancing, an adjoining bar next to it providing drinks that were based off fairy tales as well, with some milder examples being _Mad Tea,_ literally just green tea with citrus, mint and a tiny drop of gin, _Fair Maiden,_ a drink made of pineapple juice and blue curacao, and _Lily of the Sun,_ champagne and pear vodka mixed together.

Then of course, as was tradition with every graduation, there was the hard stuff, mostly cocktails as the graduates had requested.

_Fairy Dust_ was a cocktail containing honey vodka, triple sec and cider, _Bell(e) of the Ball_ consisted of chocolate vodka, creme de banana and milk and _Glass Slipper_ , a drink Felix personally really wanted to try, was made of blueberry vodka, whipped cream vodka and cream on top.

It was a lot of vodka overall and Felix just knew that the poor souls who were assigned as waiters would be so drunk off their asses by the end of their shift that they would probably retch all over the floor.

Usually, the freshmen were picked, so he wasn't too nervous about being chosen as a victim of getting thrown in a room full of intoxicated and horny young adults who took every chance they could get to go down on someone, but still, he felt for the people who would suffer that fate because it wasn't a pleasant experience. At all.

Apart from the bar, the space for dancing, the buffet and the stage, Jisung had also put down some ideas for posters they could hang up and how to make use of lenticular printing so that the posters changed depending on the angle they were looked at.

One of the examples provided included a poster of Alice in Wonderland simply wandering around in a forest, but when looked at from another angle, the Cheshire Cat appeared between the trees, along with the famous quote ' _We're all mad here'._

For a first draft, the details Jisung had come up with were incredibly fleshed out and Felix was impressed.

''You didn't do 'okay', you did really great with the design!'', he praised, watching Jisung's eyes light up with joy as he returned the sketches.

He couldn't understand why the boy was so insecure sometimes, especially when he delivered concepts like these on a regular basis, but he guessed it had something to do with the way Jisung had been brought up.

He never really talked much about it with Felix, no matter how gently he tried to pry the information out, and even though it hurt a little to know that Jisung didn't trust him enough to share more about himself with him, he could somewhat get where he was coming from.

Judging from the very limited knowledge he had, Jisung didn't exactly have a loving upbringing, so it was understandable that he was trying to suppress any negative memories as much as possible and only focus on positive experiences until he was ready to talk it out with someone.

Felix hoped he would be that someone, he liked Jisung and wanted to get to know him better.

''Felix?''

A hand was waving in front of his face and it was about that moment that Felix realized that he'd spaced out once more.

''Yeah, sorry, come again?''

Jisung's lips curved into a smile and he shook his head in amusement.

''I asked about your designs'', he repeated himself, gesturing at the screen where Felix's part of the concept art was still waiting to be presented.

He had made several costumes, mostly for those students who would be working at the bar and setting up the buffet so that they could be told apart from the actual graduates, however, he had deliberately created more costumes than there would be workers because he had a little something planned as a surprise.

A little something he was sure both the graduates and the workers would enjoy.

The costumes were designed in a way that strayed from the usual conception of fairy tale characters, staying as far away from bright colors and positive associations as possible.

There was a male interpretation of Alice in Wonderland that Felix had made up with his own body and preferences in mind, the long dress replaced with a black vest over a short sleeved blouse and matching hot pants, sewed together out of many different fabrics.

A set of rings in the form of spades, hearts, diamonds and clubs adored his hand and on a chain around his neck hung a broken compass.

Finally, the look was completed with boots, their sides decorated with the card symbols as well.

Another design he quite liked was Puss in Boots, although there wasn't really anything _special_ about it.

Part of the fun derived from making up the character's personalities and backstories in his head as he drew them and Puss in Boots in particular had been easy to design as a fraud who took advantage of his clients and then casted them aside once they were of no use to him anymore, destroying the dreams of a better life they had been promised.

He was supposed to look normal, like a mix of a business man and a shady deceiver, so aside from a white shirt and jacket he also sported dark glasses, golden rings on every finger and the iconic hat, as well as the equally iconic boots.

A lot of thought had gone into their decoration in general and he had finally settled for a dark leather, tiny butterflies embedded into the material around the ankles and near the top.

And of course, as per his own interpretation, Puss in Boots would wear a necklace resembling a dreamcatcher with lots of feathers, particularly in black and blue.

Felix had about a million ideas for other fairy tale characters, but he had concentrated on completing only a few designs at first to see whether or not Jisung approved of them.

Which he did, if his fascinated eyes and the excited noises he let out as he leaned forward were anything to go by.

''Those are so cool!'', he breathed in awe. ''They fit into my design so well!''

''Yeah, thanks to our soulmate telepathy'', Felix joked, skipping a few blank pages full of notes and half-assed attempts to design Cinderella before he came to the first draft he had made for this assignment.

Little Red Riding Hood.

A design he had made with Jisung in mind.

He saw the boy's pupils dilate at the rough drawing in front of him, but before he could open his mouth to comment on it, Jisung's phone suddenly went off in his pocket, startling both of them as his ringtone penetrated the relatively quiet library.

_Watch out, watch out, open your eyes._

_Countdown, countdown, what do I do now?_

_Feels like I'm trapped in an hourglass._

Was that K-pop?

Felix didn't know all that much about it, partly because he wasn't on the internet much and partly because he just generally didn't care about the idol world, but the husky yet soft voice that reached his ears definitely sounded like that of an idol to him.

Jisung didn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed that his phone had gone off loudly in public, quite the opposite actually as he took the time to indulge in the verse, letting the lyrics wash over him as if they were a hot shower on a cold winter night before he actually pulled his phone out to look at the caller id.

As soon as he saw who was calling him, his face broke into the biggest smile Felix had ever seen on him, eyes crinkling and seeming to smile as well as he eagerly picked up.

''Jeongin, hi!''

Jeongin, huh.

Felix had heard stories about him from Jisung, rarely able to go a day without Jisung breaking into a rant on why Jeongin was his most cherished person in the whole entire universe and why he thought everyone should love the younger.

Those two seemed to share a bond that went even deeper than that of lovers or soulmates, at least according to what Jisung always let on, and Felix was honestly a little jealous because although he had a best friend, the two of them didn't seem to possess that profound bond that was felt throughout every interaction between Jisung and Jeongin.

They really loved each other a lot. It was endearing.

''No, I'm still here. I'm working on a project with a friend.''

Being called a friend brought a smile to Felix's face and he watched Jisung expectantly as he stilled, listening what Jeongin was saying to him from the other side.

His fingers were tapping on the desk in regular intervals and he made some approving noises now and then, but other than that, he let the other talk until the end.

His expression didn't change once, the blissful smile frozen on his face while his gaze was directed at something invisible on the ceiling.

''Yeah, I can stay out longer, no problem'', he finally said, then paused for a short second before he continued. ''How long do you need me out for?''

Jeongin had called Jisung to tell him not to come back yet? Was he planning a surprise for him or something?

''I'll occupy myself, don't you worry about me, Innie!''

Jisung laughed, the sound of it vibrant and pleasant to the ear as he suddenly turned away from Felix, probably to better concentrate on the call.

It was a small gesture, but it hurt nonetheless, the smile slipping off Felix's face and turning his expression into a grimace.

He knew he shouldn't let this get to him, it was just an unconscious reaction of Jisung's, but for some reason, his chest ached.

He felt ignored.

''Ah, really? You haven't told me that story yet, shoot! I have time!''

_Ow_.

That hurt.

They were both in the middle of this project, looking to share their ideas with each other and Jisung had clearly enjoyed it until a minute ago, but he guessed Jeongin was just more important than him and the project.

He could understand that these two were best friends, okay, but that was no reason to cast him aside the _minute_ Jeongin was on the phone.

Felix softly tapped Jisung's shoulder to get his attention, but when the other briefly looked at him, there was the faintest trace of annoyance in his features and he let out a dissatisfied huff as he swatted Felix's hand away.

''Not now, Jeongin's talking.''

Oh really.

_Oh. Fucking. Really._

The sentence caused a sudden flare of anger and hurt to well up in Felix's body and he stood up in one swift motion, packing his things together and resisting the urge to curse at Jisung as he fixated him with a hard glare.

''So I guess Jeongin is more important than me and the project, huh'', he forced out between gritted teeth, watching Jisung's eyes grow wide in irritation and shock as if he hadn't really noticed what he had just said.

''No, wait, Lixie, I...''

Lixie.

Felix was weak, so incredibly weak in front of that nickname and it was made even worse by the fact that Jisung obviously didn't know what it did to him.

_''Lixie.''_

_His_ warm breath seemed to ghost over the back of his neck and feathery touches travelled up his arms, causing goosebumps to appear on his skin.

The previous annoyance he had felt towards Jisung was immediately forgotten, leaving behind a warmth that spread from his chest to the rest of his body.

Felix's knees felt weak all of a sudden and heat rushed to his face, so he was glad for the hand that grabbed his own, the touch comforting and familiar as he was tugged forwards gently.

_''Lixie, sit down please.''_

Those eyes were begging him to stay, to hear him out, so what else was he left to do other than slowly sit back down again?

He couldn't resist the pull of that voice, couldn't help wanting to melt into his arms, but he held himself back, knowing this was neither the place nor time to do so.

''Lixie, please, I'm right back with you, but I really need to hear Jeongin out, okay?''

Hazy.

Felix's mind was so hazy, almost as if he was intoxicated, and as a result, nothing really registered with him anymore apart from the fuzzy feeling welling up inside of him and the smile returning to his face.

A hand brushed through his hair, the touch gone almost as soon as he noticed it, and a warm hand was cupping his cheek, fingers gently tracing over his freckles as he let out a content sigh.

He knew this feeling.

_''Beautiful.''_

It was home.

_''So beautiful.''_

It was _him_.

_''Lixie.''_


	5. [King's Black Knight]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I love Seventeen.
> 
> A GOT7 centric chapter! Yay?

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**''BLACK'' has captured a pawn.** _

Mark hummed as he leaned his head against the window, the cloudless sky above him mirroring his mood as the uneven street rumbled under him and the scenery rushed past him.

A muddled mix of green and brown twirled past him on both sides, the forest endlessly stretching out beside him and hiding him from prying eyes.

He'd left the city hours ago and that meant he could finally stop being so overly attentive of his surroundings and more importantly, stop obeying the speed limit.

He wasn't exactly running late to his scheduled meeting with their latest client, in fact he was still fairly early, but there was just something oddly satisfying about speeding down an empty road, something thrilling about letting go of his impulse control and reasoning for once and just doing whatever he wanted.

There was always a certain risk, but in all honesty, the pretty pictures of very possible scenarios, of blood splattered everywhere, a silver wreck that used to be his car tossed over at the side and black smoke rising from the scene, did little except serve to make him more excited.

He wouldn't mind being a participant in that deadly spectacle, getting caught in a dance of flames and a war of blood as he relished in his own screams, and he certainly wouldn't mind dragging an innocent soul down into oblivion with him.

He wouldn't fucking mind.

It sounded messed up, but he liked misery.

Seeing something going well or really just people being happy was enough to fuel his urge to completely destroy them by plunging a knife into their throats, tearing into their flesh, ripping out muscle and fiber as they sputtered for air, unable to fight back or even do so much as breathe out.

As much time and effort as it had taken to nourish the life that was struggling under him, at the end of the day its destruction was such an easy task and there was not a single thing more satisfying than this very fact.

He really enjoyed his job.

He'd pretty much always been in the crime business, or at least one of its branches, but it had progressed from simple robbery and hostage taking to actual human trafficking over the years and he was extremely pleased by the development because not only did he get to fuck around with more people on a wider scale, he also got to torture the ones that were 'leftover trash', as Jeongin put it.

Those that weren't selling on the market or those that the clients suddenly couldn't pay the according sum for anymore, those were the people he got to have his fun with and those were also the people that ended up as pictures on the walls of his photo gallery.

So many humans from all across the world and yet, they all bled the same red. It was intriguing.

The car shook as Mark raced over the little bumps in the road without slowing down and he heard something moving in the trunk.

A smile found its way onto his lips and his eyes travelled to the rearview mirror even if he knew that he wouldn't be able to see anything.

Ah yes. The newest delivery.

From what he had gathered from Chan's mood, it was another idol, but he wasn't really surprised, as idols seemed high in demand these days for whatever reason there was out there.

It wasn't his place to question his clients' mentalities, he could only imagine that there were a lot of people who wanted to keep their favorite idols all to themselves or make some money off of forcing them into prostitution.

There was also that one instance from the past where two companies had both requested Jeongin's services at the same time, each wanting to steal idols from a rivaling company.

He remembered it like it had been yesterday, the effort that had gone into researching all about the companies' structure and their idols so straining that it had kept them awake for three straight days.

Nonetheless, they had finished these jobs flawlessly and both of the exchanges had gone just as smoothly on the same day, everything beyond that point wasn't Mark's responsibility anymore.

He didn't know if these companies were still holding grudges against them, but it wasn't like he cared much about that as long as they received money.

Oh and money they had received.

In fact, those two jobs alone would have probably been enough to financially support them and their hotel throughout the entire year, but since they did what they did mostly out of passion and not for the money, they had kept going anyway.

It was just a fun job overall, no day exactly the same as the previous and never a dull moment, even on days like these where he had to drive almost five hours from the airport to get to their client.

He liked being able to take his mind off things like this and since he would charge the client extra anyway, he didn't mind driving the extra miles.

The base price for any given delivery was generally composed of the aquisition, designing and dispatch costs which was why every order required special calculation, but every once in a while, Jeongin liked to charge for repeated orders from the same client in quick succession or when he felt there was something off about the job.

This time was no different.

The client hadn't appeared suspicious _per se_ when he had contacted them through the dark web, but Jeongin ran all kinds of background checks on these people to make sure they weren't cooperating with police or other authorities and were really just desperate individuals wanting to get their dick sucked or whatever the hell they even planned to do. Like he said, he wasn't in a position to judge.

Something must have come up through the background check this time because the youngest had immediately frowned at his phone and mumbled something along the lines of ''First time'', indicating that it was the first time that the client had requested their services and that he wasn't already known to them.

Such clients were always suspicious in and of themselves, but Mark could tell there was something else that had Jeongin confused, otherwise he wouldn't have gone through the effort of adjusting the bill afterwards.

He hoped it would become clear to him once he actually saw the client for himself.

Mark made a sharp turn to the left, the hard cement giving way for a gravel road leading deeper into the forest.

His delivery was once again being thrown around in the trunk and although he found it really amusing, he willed himself to slow the car down alltogether, not wanting to make a bad impression on an important business partner.

Speak of the devil, the man was already there, standing at the side of the road a bit further down, by the looks of it anxiously awaiting Mark like the 23-year old virgin he probably was as his hands kept adjusting the collar of his hoodie in an attempt to make himself appear professional.

Mark scoffed, but quickly schooled his expression as he pulled over and stopped his car at the side.

Important business partner his ass.

This man - or boy was more like it - seemed like the kind of guy who still lived in his mother's basement, a lonely loser with some really screwed up fantasies concerning idols, but hey, no judging, right?

He shot a short text to Jeongin, telling him the delivery was almost done, before he braced himself, put on his best man-of-the-people-facade and got out of the car, the sound of the door closing reverberating eerily in the silent forest.

He didn't bother to retrieve his captive yet, after all they had a strict policy of 'Pay first, enjoy later' and although the boy had already payed off half of his debt beforehand, as per Jeongin's request, the other half had to be handed over as well once the delivery had reached him.

''Hello!''

Oh, for fucks sake.

The guy had an annoying, weirdly happy voice for someone who participated in this kind of activity and it irked Mark as he approached him, feeling overdressed in his leather jacket and the ripped jeans he had picked out this morning.

Hell, he'd even put on some makeup, but this dude looked like shit, eye bags bigger than Chan's after one of his many all-nighters and hair as messy as Jisung's when he had just woken up, so what was the point?

Still, professionalism was his thing, so he bowed slightly in greeting while trying not to think about how ridiculous this situation was.

He saw a lot of clients on a daily basis, but he rarely came across this type of person, the type that was just overall useless and desperate and it made him want to stab the guy.

''Good day. I'm here to deliver what you ordered.''

The guy clapped and Mark's eye twitched in annoyance.

''Ah, yes! Can I see him?''

_Are you that eager to finally get laid?_

''Payment has to be completed first'', he calmly explained and the guy clapped again, seemingly thrilled by the exchange and his serious demeanor.

''Right, right! Money! Money is important!''

If Chan were in his place right now, he would have a blast.

He hated people like this and with the little control he had over himself, Mark wasn't sure that his little brother wouldn't have stabbed the hell out of this client already.

The boy proudly presented his credit card and Mark reached into his pocket to take out his EFTPOS terminal, extending it to him so he could swipe his card across.

This was the way they preferred to have the payments done.

It was quick, efficient and there was less room for mistakes in the transaction.

Plus, dragging copious amounts of money around wasn't exactly smart, especially not if there were people around who could take advantage of that.

Sure, he carried a gun around pretty much all the time, but he'd rather not take a life out here, it was sure to be messy and inconvenient, not to mention he'd leave traces behind he wouldn't have time to get rid of.

No, _when_ he killed, he killed in private, merciless and slow as he savored the suffering of his victims until they stopped struggling and he could toss them out like the trash they were.

But not before posing them like dolls, propping them up in chairs or moving their limbs into an unnatural position for his own enjoyment and making some morbid, yet strangely aesthetic pictures for his gallery.

He probably had around a hundred photos by now, though he couldn't be completely sure of that since the circumstances didn't always allow for a shot.

A short beep from the terminal informed him that the transaction was done and he double-checked the sum before nodding in satisfaction.

This guy was a loser, but he at least had money, so all was good.

He gestured at the other male to follow him to the car and his face lit up so much that Mark honestly thought he was looking at an excited puppy.

He deliberately took his time opening the trunk, simply to see him writhe around a little, yet the second the boy laid eyes on the idol that was contained in the tiny space, curled into himself, tied up and blindfolded, he all but lost it and started squeaking like an overexcited hamster.

''Oh god, it's him, isn't it?''

What kind of question was that even?

The client had paid for this idol, so of course it was him.

Still, Mark tugged the blindfold away from the idol's eyes to prove that yes, this was indeed Yoo Kihyun of Monsta X, and no, he wasn't dead or intoxicated or anything.

Sometimes, clients would get really upset if they found out their idol of choice had been drugged, but sometimes, they would also get upset if they _hadn't_ been drugged, so at this point, Jeongin always asked beforehand to make sure.

Even though Kihyun was sober, he still seemed dizzy and overall weak, his unfocused eyes not really seeing anything as he let out what sounded like a heavy sigh from behind his gag, probably relieved about the fresh air pouring into the stuffy trunk.

Mark wasn't allowed to touch someone else's property, not even to lift Kihyun out of the trunk, so he simply made a gesture for the boy who was still staring at the idol in awe to do it himself.

''He's all yours. Do what you want with him.''

That was normally the cue for any client to get on with it and not unnecessarily prolong the exchange, but _clearly_ , this one individual had never learned the definition of being tactful.

''So pretty'', he breathed out, hands running all over Kihyun's body as if feeling if he was really there. Kihyun let out a dissatisfied grunt and squirmed away from the unwanted touch, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it.

He didn't seem terribly scared which was honestly a little disappointing, seeing how half of the job's fun came from witnessing their victims panicking, but Mark had his money, so he could look past that fact.

Now, could this asshole kindly move?

''This is amazing. You're amazing... You really got him... Right here.''

The boy's hands had reached Kihyun's hair and he ran his fingers through the soft pink locks that Jeongin had washed and dyed himself the day prior. It had taken quite a bit of time to find the exact shade of pink that Kihyun's hair had been before and actually keeping him still also hadn't been the easiest task, especially with an agitated Chan in the room who was two seconds away from snapping the idol's neck.

But as Mark gazed at Kihyun, he found that it had definitely been worth the effort.

He was incredibly pretty, his makeup positively accentuating his features, the self-made jewelry that was dangling from his neck and ears sparkling in the sunlight and only a glittery jacket enveloping his upper body, his abs completely on display for anyone to see.

Courtesy of Jeongin. He knew what his clients liked.

''He's gonna be so happy.''

Mark settled for nodding, not even bothering to ask who this boy's boss was, but he couldn't help the irritation that seeped through his features.

This was taking way longer than expected and it was suspicious, but of course he was unable to actually say so.

Once again, had Chan been in his place, he would have slammed this guy against the car and beat him into unconsciousness, and Mark wondered if that was the right way to go about this.

This boy was hopeless.

Why couldn't he take a goddamn hint?

''I really don't wish to intrude on this moment'', he started, but trailed off when the guy finally reached down and heaved Kihyun out of the trunk and over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes.

Well, about fucking time.

Mark almost sighed in relief and turned around with the intention of getting out of here again, but a tug on the sleeve of his jacket held him back.

What now?

''Don't you want to know what I'll do to him?''

There was an almost threatening tone in this guy's voice and out of habit, Mark took on a defensive stance, his hand tightening around the gun on his belt as he stared at the client defiantly, waiting for him to reveal his intentions.

Things like these happened somewhat regularly in businesses such as theirs.

Sometimes, when a client received their delivery, they would turn on those who made it possible in the first place and from there, it could pretty much go both ways.

Chan had a nasty scar on his arm from where a client had attacked him once in beliefs that it had been Chan who had led the police to the client's place and Mark himself had taken lives in self-defense a few times before, luckily without any serious consequences for their business.

It just happened.

But this time, it seemed to have been false alarm because the guy instantly shrunk back as his gaze fell on the gun and he waved his hand around dismissively.

''Hey, it was just a question! A question!''

Mark didn't allow himself to relax, knowing that this could still be some kind of tactic to lure him into a false sense of security by playing into the role of innocent client. Which in itself was laughable because nothing about a client was ever innocent and it only got confirmed when the guy's hand slowly started travelling up Kihyun's legs, feeling the tense muscles for a bit before stopping its journey dangerously close to the idol's ass.

Ah. So that was how it was.

Been there, done that, didn't like it, moving on.

''Thanks, but I'll pass'', he forced out through gritted teeth. ''I don't really want to be a part of some messed up sextape.''

There went his professionalism. Oh well.

The guy blinked in confusion, adjusting his grip on Kihyun who had started to struggle after hearing the word 'sextape', something akin to choked sobs escaping him.

He couldn't hope to actually achieve anything by resisting, not with the way he was tied up, but his futile struggle was amusing to watch anyway.

''Oh, I'm not making a sextape, don't worry.''

The boy quietly laughed to himself, seemingly finding the implication that he was a creepy pervert hilarious and Mark didn't know whether that made him more interested in whatever the hell was going to happen to Kihyun or not.

It was rare for clients to think of a use for their idols beyond turning them into a sextoy or keep on selling them to god knows where, so he had to admit he was the tiniest bit curious.

Objectively speaking, he did have a little bit of spare time to stick around and since Jeongin always preached about maintaining a stable relationship with the clients, it would be in his best interest to stay, right?

Noticing his change of mind, the boy smiled at him and gave a nod down the road where his house had to be.

''Care to join me for a cup of tea?''

This time, Mark didn't think twice about agreeing to the offer and before he knew it, he was walking down the path with the guy, idly chatting as if he hadn't just called him all sorts of names in his head.

Speaking of which, it was uncommon in this business to exchange names, but it didn't seem to bother the client too much since he instantly offered that piece of information to Mark as if that one interaction had somehow made them friends.

Of course, Jeongin had known his name from the start due to the background check he had conducted, but Mark met so many clients throughout even a single day that he didn't bother learning their names anymore.

But this one was different, so he made an exception.

Lee Seokmin.

He made sure to ingrain that name into his mind, feeling as if he was going to need it again pretty soon.

For someone who looked the way he did, Seokmin was in possession of a lot of money and it showed in the size of his house - or rather _mansion_ \- that he had built in the forest, its white front polished and inviting to Mark as he approached it.

He figured it was a situation like theirs where workplace and house were combined into a single building because as soon as he entered it, Seokmin still happily yapping next to him, he found himself faced with the interior of what appeared to be a lab.

Contrary to what he remembered his school lab to look like, this one had dirty grey stone walls that were stained with all sorts of unidentifiable fluids, not at all giving off the impression that a professional was at work here.

In the middle of the room was an arrangement of several tables that had been pushed together, a wide supply of tubes, chemical substances, notes and petri dishes all spread out next to a strange tube-like device with masses of cables sticking out of it.

A few of the cables were attached to some sort of disgusting yellow chunk that was floating in a red broth, but he was unable to tell what exactly that chunk was supposed to be. Did he even _want_ to know?

''It's a project I've been working on'', came the cheerful voice from next to him and when Mark glanced at Seokmin, he noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Interesting.

Was this 'project' the reason he had so much money in the first place?

But what was it?

And just what did he plan on doing with Kihyun? What was his role in this whole thing?

Something wasn't adding up in Mark's mind and the other male detected his confusion, once more breaking into laughter.

''We should discuss this in private, don't you agree?''

He had difficulties averting his gaze from the tube and its content, but turned to look at Seokmin anyway who motioned for him to make himself comfortable while he disappeared through a door at the back of the lab, no doubt to bring Kihyun into the room he was going to spend his days in from now on.

Despite being encouraged to look around, Mark refrained from doing that while the other male went about his business, knowing that Jeongin wouldn't appreciate hearing about him being nosy once again.

He had learned his lesson.

Still, his gaze kept drifting to the strange thing inside the tube and before he could stop himself, he had already stepped closer to take a better look, something like morbid curiosity welling up in him.

Up close the slimy texture of the chunk was much more noticeable and he made a face as nausea began crawling up his throat.

He wasn't really a squeamish person, but there was something weirdly revolting about this thing and it only got confirmed when he actually saw it _moving_.

Well, expanding and deflating was more like it, but it creeped him out either way, so he settled for keeping his sweet distance from the tube, instead occupying himself by checking his phone.

He didn't need to wait long, Seokmin returned merely a minute later and led them both into his spacious kitchen that was off to the side, immediately getting to heating up some water for the tea and choosing a tea bag from the millions of different sorts he had lying around there on the counter.

''You want currant or white tea?''

''Currant is fine.''

A cup of tea was set down in front of him soon enough, as well as a phone that he assumed to be Kihyun's, and after a questioning glance at Seokmin and a rather snarky ''You're welcome, rookie'' from the guy, Mark slipped it into his pocket, trying hard to keep his temper contained.

Yes, they had forgotten to confiscate Kihyun's phone, something they normally always did for their own safety, but that didn't make him a rookie and neither did it give this ass a reason to use that kind of condescending tone on him.

In an attempt to distract himself, Mark took a look around the kitchen, noticing lots of plans, blueprints and scribbled notes that had been pinned to the walls, probably all related to the project.

The dedication was undeniable, if not the tiniest bit concerning, but he figured everyone had something they obsessed over.

For him, it was murder and pretty pictures of dead people and for Seokmin, it was weird projects. No big deal, right?

''So, this project of yours...''

Mark played around with the tea bag while the water turned from light pink to dark red, the pleasant smell of currant invading his nose.

''Why do you need an idol for it?''

Seokmin hummed in thought.

''Oh, I don't need them at all. I could have taken any random person from the street, but I figured I might as well make you work for your money a little. Raise the stakes, put you under pressure, make you my bitch, you know.''

_Asshole._

The shit-eating grin that appeared on his face was obnoxious and a complete shift from before and Mark fought to keep his facial expression under control, the urge to reach over the table and choke the hell out of this guy overwhelming.

''Oh really?'', was all he said in reply, his tone of voice strained and annoyed to no end as he struggled with his conscience to not kill Seokmin right here and now.

Killing clients was about the worst offense he could commit, at least it was to Jeongin, because such news seemed to spread relatively quickly and the last thing any of them wanted was to have a hitman on their heels.

Those guys weren't fun.

Probably noticing his growing rage, Seokmin shifted nervously on his chair, the grin fading from his face and making way for an anxious expression.

''Sorry. I got too cocky. I'm just too excited about finally being able to do this.''

Understandable.

If he truly was doing this for the first time, Mark could imagine what kind of thoughts were running through his head right about now.

Although human trafficking was a risky business, it came with the feeling of power and a high unlike everything a person could experience from drugs and exactly this was what made people addicted to it.

Even Mark himself had fallen prey to that feeling, allowing it to consume his thoughts and actions, but he didn't regret it for a single second.

''That's quite alright, don't worry.''

With an enormous force of will, he managed to keep his anger contained and concentrate on what he had originally wanted to do. Collect information.

''What exactly **are** you going to do, if you don't mind the question?''

He wasn't actually meant to press the clients, no matter how gentle his tone might be. It was another one of Jeongin's unwritten rules, another one of his tactics.

Don't show interest in anything, don't expose even a hint of your personality to anyone, just deliver and satisfy the client and be done with it.

Still, this one time couldn't hurt. He was just collecting information about the client, nothing bad in that, right?

''Before I tell you, let me ask something first'', Seokmin suggested, emptying his still very hot cup of tea in one gulp before getting up to heat some more water.

''Okay, ask away.''

He didn't know what type of question was going to be posed, nor did he know where the other male was going with this, but Mark figured he could humor him some more.

There was a short silence, the only sounds reaching his ear being the whistling kettle and Seokmin's breathing as he inspected the blueprints and pictures pinned to the walls, seemingly trying to find a specific one.

As soon as he had found it, he all but ripped it off the wall, tearing the paper significantly, yet somehow, he didn't really mind as he placed it on the table in front of Mark.

It appeared to be an anatomical sketch of some type of fish which was weirdly disappointing because after seeing that tube in the lab, he had expected a grand scheme or something and not... this.

Whatever this even was.

Catching on to his disappointment, Seokmin let out a breathy laugh and settled down in his chair again, looking at him expectantly as if him showing that sketch should have told Mark everything he ever wanted to know.

''Do you know this fish?''

 **That** was the question?

He examined the sketch closer, trying to see if he was missing something, if this was maybe a puzzle for him to solve, but it seemed to be just a normal drawing, the likes of which could probably be found in every biology book.

''No'', he answered, drawing the word out more than necessary to further accentuate that he didn't have a clue what this guy wanted to hear from him.

Why the hell should he possess knowledge about a damn fish?

He was a criminal and not a zookeeper.

''I literally have no idea. Enlighten me if you will.''

''It's a zebrafish.''

Ah. Yes.

Everything made sense now.

''And that's important because..?''

''Don't you know what's special about this type of fish?''

The expression on the male's face shifted ever so slightly, but Mark noticed it nonetheless, having experienced this with so many of his clients already that he didn't even need to think twice about toning his attitude down, knowing he was entering dangerous waters.

Interacting with unstable minds was always a challenge that required a lot of tactfulness, a skill he'd never been exceptionally good at, but he was absolutely certain he had screwed up when he saw this particular shift in expression.

The shift from neutral and composed to two seconds from an edge.

The shift that made the facade fall and exposed what truly laid underneath it, most of which wasn't exactly pretty.

The best course of action in that case was always appease and avert, so that was what he did, putting the sketch away and stirring his tea as if he actually had any intention of drinking that stuff.

''I understand. Interesting.''

Seokmin watched him quietly for a few more seconds, contemplating, before a smile found its way onto his face once more and he nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

Crisis averted.

''Say, friend, do you read newspapers? I got my eye on someone...''

A sudden question, but not an unexpected one.

He'd expected this client to give him another job relatively quickly and even though taking orders was normally Jeongin's task, Mark figured he could take over just this once.

''Who might that be?''

Having already expected a reply of that kind, Seokmin pulled out a newspaper article and handed it to him, the headline underlined in red telling him right away what he should focus on.

The article in question was fairly new and as Mark's eyes scanned the picture of a young idol next to it, he couldn't help but feel like he had seen the boy before.

He looked fairly young still, black hair framing his face nicely, but there was also an underlying tiredness in his eyes, the kind that wouldn't go away with simply a little sleep, the kind that told of emotional exhaustion and repeated mental trauma.

He looked... apprehensive?

It was difficult to make out, he was smiling after all, but it didn't seem genuine and only succeeded in unsettling Mark.

''Think you can find him for me?''

Well, a job was a job, so Mark hummed in confirmation, still looking at the picture of the boy to burn it into his brain. It wouldn't be easy to find this idol, but he was up for the challenge and he knew Jeongin was too.

''I'm sure we can if you give us some time.''

''By all means, take all the time you need, I'll be getting this one ready.''

There was a weird connotation to the male's words as his gaze wandered off towards the door, but Mark chose to ignore it and instead rose from his chair, the tea still untouched in front of him on the table.

He shouldn't stick around for too long, he had other business to attend to.

More jobs to finish, more money to receive, more lives to ruin.

''We'll be in contact'', he asserted and Seokmin gave him a cheeky smile in reply as he waved him off.

''I'm sure we will.''

Mark folded up the newspaper after taking a last look at the headline, his steps light as he made his way towards the exit.

_Starlight Entertainment's nationwide search for missing idol still ongoing._


	6. [Black Bishop]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you too Bine <3

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**''BLACK'' executes Pin.** _

The concept was coming along nicely.

Due to Felix's and his continued efforts, ideas and improvements that were being added to what they had already settled on, Jisung really felt as if it was coming to life right in front of his eyes.

They had already handed it over to the entirety of the project class and the teacher responsible for them even if they were still making minor changes on their ideas and so far, the response to the concept had turned out positive through and through.

The teacher still hadn't given his _official_ consent, but with a horde of excited students, it was only a matter of time until he would approve, so the rest of the project class deemed it safe to continue working on preparations, knowing their efforts wouldn't go to waste.

With such a fresh concept and the overflowing enthusiasm of those who had come up with it came a renewed devotion to the project that Jisung hadn't experienced for a long time.

His fellow peers actively participated in coming up with ideas of their own and supporting other groups as much as they could and it was that kind of teamwork that warmed his heart.

If they all worked together, this would turn out to be the best graduation of the century.

''43-30-35'', one of the sewers exclaimed, drawing Jisung's attention as he turned around to look at Felix who was placed in the middle of the gym, arms spread wide and a student taking his body measurements in order to sew his costume.

Originally, Felix hadn't wanted to dress up, only using himself as reference when designing Alice in Wonderland, but after many hours of pushing and begging from the rest of their class, he had relented, agreeing to attending the party as a guest of honor.

Jisung was also invited as a guest of honor for coming up with the whole setting, however, his costume still needed some adjusting as it was just slightly too tight, so he was currently helping with creating the backdrops that would be hung on the gym's walls.

Seeing how they wanted the experience to be as immersive as possible, the backdrop was as large as the wall itself, spread out on the floor with at least ten students carefully painting trees, rocks, fallen logs, rivers and overall forest scenery on there.

They were aiming for a three-dimensional picture with a glade in the middle and a waterfall off to the side, but even if it was a complex task, they were already making significant progress, their motivation at an all-time high as they chattered and bickered playfully with each other.

''Oi, Wooyoung, you missed a spot'', someone snickered and as Jisung looked up, he could see Yeosang crouching down next to his younger classmate, brush in hand as he pointed at a line of trees.

Wooyoung followed where he was pointing at, frowning as his eyes scanned over the canvas, but were unable to make out just what he had supposedly missed.

He turned to Yeosang accusingly, only to have the slightly older male swipe over his cheek with the brush, leaving a bright blue trail on his skin.

''Oh, my bad.''

Yeosang backed away, a smug smile on his face as he went back to painting the sky, leaving Wooyoung dumbfounded as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

Jisung let a tiny giggle escape him, but he instantly realized he shouldn't have drawn attention to himself because before he knew it, Wooyoung was waving his own brush threateningly at him as if to dare him to laugh about his misery again.

''I'd be quiet if I were you!''

Yeosang used that short moment of carelessness to reach up once more and add another stroke to the living canvas in front of him, causing the rest of the students to start chuckling as well.

''Just you wait, I'll get you back at the dorm'', Wooyoung mumbled, rubbing at his cheek to get rid of the paint, but only smearing it around more. ''You'll be sorry.''

Yeosang only laughed in response and the others joined in before they all quieted down, wanting to get the backdrop done as soon as possible and therefore needing to concentrate.

Wooyoung didn't even bother to remove the paint on his face and just dove right back into drawing trees and Jisung helped him by focusing mostly on the details, such as moss growing on the roots, birds sitting on branches and the texture of the water running down the waterfall.

He noticed students leaving and entering the gym in regular intervalls as they finished having their measurements taken, but didn't really pay attention to it until he happened to glance at a mop of familiar brown hair while he was taking a break from drawing grass.

As if there was some sort of magic connection, the mop of brown hair turned around right that instance, scanning the room as if he was searching for something.

He was wearing a black turtleneck, as well as a thin, striped jacket and ripped black jeans and upon closer inspection, there was a long silver earring dangling from his left ear.

Jisung recognized him.

The boy he was fated to never meet.

He was there, standing in a line behind some other guys as he was waiting for his turn to have his measurements taken, his fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as his gaze kept shifting around aimlessly.

Until it locked on Jisung.

There was a flash of _something_ in his eyes and although the younger tried to shoot him a small smile, his expression remained neutral, almost forcibly controlled to the point of him having been schooled to look like that.

Even from this distance, Jisung thought he saw that the boy's eyes were strangely clouded over and his heart clenched painfully in response which was weird considering he didn't know the other.

He had never interacted with him and still, there was sadness crawling up his body regardless, urging him to go over and hug the boy in order to spend at least some type of comfort for whatever he was going through.

Whenever he watched the boy at the studio, he always seemed so full of energy and passion, but right now, none of that was visible in his eyes.

His look grew distant, as if he was spacing out, but that moment only lasted a few seconds before his gaze shifted again and the magical moment was broken.

It left Jisung with a heavy feeling in his stomach, but he didn't avert his eyes from the boy, hoping for another instance of them looking at each other while his heart was doing jumps in his chest.

He had the urge to get up, cross the short distance between them and introduce himself, make the first step towards becoming friends with a boy he really wanted to know better, but at the same time he knew there was an impassable obstacle in the way.

It was like standing on opposite sides of a glass wall, able to see and watch each other, but never anything more.

It was like being on two different, but adjoining squares of a chessboard, not being allowed to move on their own while watching each other get dragged across the board and out of reach.

It was sad.

The boy stepped forward and raised his arms, letting the sewer do her job as she walked around him with her measuring tape and notebook, tugging and adjusting his posture slightly as she pleased.

The fact that she was taking his measurements meant that he was a worker at the graduation party too and Jisung found himself wondering what type of costume he would like to see on the boy.

With his pretty face and pale skin, he would have naturally passed as Snow White if it weren't for the fact that his hair was brown.

Jisung tried to picture him with black hair, just for the sake of his own fantasy, but was stopped by an intense feeling of déjà vu that hit him out of nowhere.

This was... weird.

He could swear he'd seen the boy with black hair before...

While he was gawking, another girl from his art class, Dayoung if he remembered correctly, whipped out a list, seemingly ticking off attendence and he saw her mouthing the boy's name, yet couldn't make it out over the noise in the gym.

The boy merely nodded, slightly tensing up, and she made a cross before gesturing towards Felix who was currently sat at a table, creating invitations.

He looked up as the boy approached him, recognition passing over his face, and the two seemed to exchange some friendly words, as evident by the way the boy eased up, before Felix handed him his invitation, probably threatening him to be on time in typical Felix fashion.

The boy gave a halfhearted nod and took his leave right away, his steps faster than what would be considered casual and once again, Jisung felt the need to follow him taking a hold of him, forcing him to stand up.

He wasn't meant to take so much interest in someone he was never supposed to meet, but quite frankly, he couldn't help it, so he hurried after the boy in a much slower pace, acting as if he simply needed to go to the toilet.

From the corner of his vision, he thought he saw Felix giving him a questioning look, but he tuned it out and concentrated on tailing the boy instead.

It was a task he already had plenty of experience in, although he felt a little bit exposed without houses, bushes or other things to his sides where he could take cover behind in case the boy happened to turn around.

To compensate for his lack of hiding places, he worked with distance, making sure to keep at least one hallway between them at all times and moving so quietly that the boy wouldn't be able to tell that he was being followed.

In a way, it was thrilling and Jisung felt goosebumps littering his body with every sharp inhale, every sudden stop, every unstable breath that filtered through the air to him.

The boy seemed uneasy, but whether it was because of his instincts telling him that something was off or just because he was lost in his own thoughts wasn't apparent to him.

He guessed it was an uncomfortable mix of both and for a second, in a rare moment of self reflection, he wondered what he was doing here.

He didn't know what he even hoped to achieve by running after the boy, why his body pushed him to give chase, but it was like a deeply ingrained feral instinct, like a hunter tracking down his prey.

Prey?

The word brought him unease and he noticed himself slowing down while the boy disappeared around another corner and out of his sight, leaving only the slight echo of his steps to remain in the hallway for a few more moments.

However, the heavy silence Jisung expected didn't hit because the familiar ringing of his phone suddenly went off – and with it, the voice of his favorite idol.

_Watch out, watch out, open your eyes._

_Countdown, countdown, what do I do now?_

_Feels like I'm trapped in an hourglass._

It was Jeongin.

It couldn't be anyone else.

Only Jeongin called him when he was at university, making him excuse himself in the middle of presentations, lectures or even tests just so he could accept the call.

Frankly, he didn't mind.

His study wasn't nearly as important as the one person who had saved his life, but the professors always made such a big deal out of it and Jisung couldn't understand why they didn't mind their own goddamn business sometimes.

If he wanted to talk to Jeongin, he _would_ talk to him.

''Innie, how-?''

''Jisung'', Jeongin interrupted him right away and his urgent tone made the hairs on the back of Jisung's neck stand up in anticipation.

He was serious.

When he was serious, Jisung had to listen closely to his every word.

When he was serious, Jisung wasn't supposed to make a single mistake.

''Yes?''

''You're going to do something for me.''

It wasn't a question because Jeongin didn't ask _._ He never did.

He gave orders that had to be executed and, as a piece on this board that was the world, Jisung obeyed these orders without a second thought because he wasn't _meant_ to think.

''What do you need me to do?''

He was meant to listen and execute.

That was all he was good for.

''Chan left an ID and flash drive in your locker. You're going to take both of them and use the ID to unlock the control room on the third floor. Nobody's in there, I checked.''

The control room.

The room from where you had an overview of the entire campus through CCTV cameras, as well as access to the various screens all throughout university that normally displayed inportant information to the students, such as which teachers were ill, what events were currently held and which achievements the university had ticked off its list.

''First of all, you're going to search through the filing cabinet on the right side. I want his file. You know which one.''

Yes, Jisung knew.

There was no need to vocally give out the name because he knew Jeongin's thoughts like his own.

He knew which file.

''Next, take the flash drive and transfer the data on it into the system unit. Then leave the ID and flash drive in the room, but don't make it too obvious. Don't stay a single second longer than you absolutely have to.''

''Got it'', he replied automatically, the instructions he had received saved in his brain to be executed with utmost care and precision. ''Consider it done.''

A satisfied hum came from the other side of the phone and he reveled in the sound, wanting to ingrain it into his memory for all it was worth.

''I'll treat you to cheesecake if you get it done without fucking up.''

It clicked. The call had been disconnected.

Jeongin was always like this, only communicating the vital information he had instead of holding everyone up with stuff like greetings, goodbyes or declarations of love.

Jisung didn't need a spoken confirmation that Jeongin loved him because the younger always showed him his love through gestures.

Giving him a home to live in. Funding his art study. Checking up on him. Lending an ear to his worries and concerns. Hugging him. Ruffling his hair. Laughing at him. With him. Taking him out for a stroll along the beach. Going to the arcade. Getting food.

That one had to be his favorite.

Sitting in his favorite cafe with Jeongin, devouring copious amounts of cheesecake while the younger looked at him with that fond and proud smile Jisung loved so much.

That smile of his was so bright and pretty that it could probably end entire wars.

And even if it didn't, it had Jisung melting every time regardless, any and all stress he'd accumulated falling off him as if it was nothing.

Jeongin just had that special magic.

His smile really had that much power. Jisung wanted to protect it no matter what.

And he would.

He would make Jeongin proud.

The mere thought made his heart jump and he immediately strode over to his locker, opening it with the combination that his friends knew as well, just in case they ever had to deposit stuff in here.

It could range from instructions on a piece of paper to random objects he had to put somewhere to gifts like that strawberry cake Mark had made for his last birthday.

He really loved his friends.

They were always looking out for him and spoiling him rich with their love and in return, he tried to help out as much as possible.

He knew he couldn't do all that much, at least according to Jeongin, but this was where these missions came in.

Inside of his locker, there were a flash drive and student ID waiting for him and he curiously took the latter to examine it.

From the picture on the left, the cute dark brown hair and the doe eyes that were looking at him, he could instantly tell whose ID it was, even before his eyes shifted to read the name.

_Lee Chan._

It confused him why the boy's ID had apparently been in Chan's possession and for a moment, the terrifying idea that his hyung might have _stolen_ it struck him, but he quickly dismissed that thought.

Chan wouldn't do this.

He had probably just found it lying around somewhere, courtesy to Dino's clumsy nature, and hadn't had enough time to return it, hence why that task now fell to Jisung.

Chan wasn't a student here, but he liked to occasionally stroll through the university anyway, so it wasn't that far off that he had just picked up a stray ID like this.

He pocketed the item and reached for the flash drive, turning it around in his hand as he pondered what might be on there and why it was so important to transfer the data into the system in the control room.

He couldn't come up with a legitimate reason, but Jeongin had to have one, so he just accepted what he had to do and tried not to think too much.

Leave the thinking to Jeongin. Focus on playing.

It wasn't difficult.

The flash drive disappeared into his pocket as well and he made his way towards the stairs that led to the third floor, the one where the teacher's lounge and secretariat, as well as the control room was located.

Most students almost never went up here, not being permitted in these hallways if they didn't have some sort of request or reason for being there, but one exception from this rule was a very specific group of students.

 _The_ _Performance Team_.

Jisung didn't know all the details, but the basic rundown was that the four members of this team had lots of extra benefits in university, including trivial things such as having their own lunch table, but also gaining access to private files and information no other student could ever wish to know about.

They were the celebrities at university, the hotshot jocks that every girl was fawning after, taken straight out of a cringy highschool movie drama with a way too predictable love story and a dislikable main character whose only character trait was being conventionally attractive.

He had never taken interest in these kinds of movies, not unless Jeongin enjoyed them too, so he didn't care much about the Performance Team either, but many people went out of their way to make childish hate blogs on the internet and spread hateful rumors with literally no substance behind them.

There had been quite a nasty one concerning the youngest member of the team, Dino, who had only been recently added and immediately had to deal with having that shit thrown at him, none of which he deserved.

_''Did you know? They say Dino is involved in human trafficking, can you imagine?''_

_''Wouldn't surprise me. That kid creeps me the fuck out.''_

Jisung was furious that anyone would even dream of accusing another human being of something so heartless, especially when they didn't know shit about the boy other than the fact that he was a part of some fancy group of students everyone disliked.

Of course it would be hard to form a neutral opinion on someone on that basis, but the least the other students could do was try and not instantly write him off as a conceited, snobbish jerk who could get everything with the flick of his hands and would never work a day in his life.

Not all that glittered was gold and Jisung was sure Dino had enough problems as it was, if only carrying the responsibility of being in the Performance Team and everything that entailed. Whatever that even entailed.

He really wasn't sure, but in his mind he saw the four boys as a sort of security measure that had been put into place by the university for some reason.

The hallways on the third floor were empty, the teachers either in class or minding their own business, so Jisung could sneakily trespass all the way to the control room.

His steps were weirdly heavy, not at all light like they had been when he had followed the boy, but he simply blamed his concentration and tried not to make too much noise.

Once he had reached his destination, he pulled out Dino's ID, giving it a last look before inserting it into a terminal on the right side of the door.

Another perk of being on the Performance Team.

Unlimited entry to every room.

The terminal made a beeping sound and spat out the ID again, a block of text appearing in the display.

_Authorization complete._

_Entry granted._

The automatic lock on the door was open with a click and before Jisung could even begin to feel guilty for forcing his way in through such crooked means, he slipped into the room, the heavy steel door shutting behind him and clicking back into place.

The first thing he took notice of were the two computers that were set up in front of him on a table, each possessing three displays.

Behind the desk, there were about six big displays on the wall, as well as two tiny ones in both corners, making for a total of sixteen displays that all showed live footage of the campus, exterior as well as interior.

He could see that one of the big screens displayed the gym and he even swore he saw Felix scurrying around, helping with hoisting one of the backdrops up, but he couldn't be too sure about that since everything was so small.

He almost allowed himself to sit down to identify the other locations on the screen, yet thought better of it when he remembered Jeongin's orders.

Right.

The filing cabinet.

It was just barely illuminated by the lights of the various screens, but Jisung decided against flicking on the lights as he kneeled down to start going through the first drawer, feeling as if he would blow his cover otherwise.

He acted in the shadows, hidden away from everything and everyone and as such, light made him vulnerable, putting him at a disadvantage in his play.

Jeongin was the one who had kindly illustrated that strategy to him and explained his role on the board, so he wasn't going to go against it.

He'd never go against Jeongin.

The files weren't sorted alphabetically, probably due to the Performance Team messing around with them, so he went through every single one, sighing in annoyance when the one he needed wasn't in there.

The next drawer was locked and he paused as his gaze swept the room, hoping to see a key somewhere.

There were no other drawers anywhere in the room where a key could have been hidden and apart from the desk and the screens, the room was very empty in general, so he had to settle for trying the other drawers on the cabinet first and hope that the key would turn up.

Going through the third one was a waste of time, for it contained neither a key nor the file he wanted, so that left the fourth drawer, the one that was disappointingly empty save for four files belonging to the Performance Team.

It was a strange choice of faculty to not lock this drawer as well, given that the information in there could potentially be more sensitive than the one he was looking for, but he didn't question it and instead just put the files back without examining them too much.

What now?

What Jeongin wanted was hidden under lock and key and as it stood now, there was no way for him to get the file.

Sure, he could try to break the drawer open, but that would cause a lot of unnecessary noise and attract other people's attention.

And really, the last thing he wanted was for the teachers -or worse yet, the Performance Team- to bust into the room and catch him red-handed.

He let out a whine, the mental image of his glorious cheesecake fading away, as he sat down in front of one of the computers, fumbling around in his pocket to grab the flash drive.

At least _one_ thing he could do.

Unless fate decided to fuck that up for him too. He honestly wouldn't be surprised.

He plugged the flash drive into the system unit which instantly opened a window on the screen that was informing him of the fact that a file called _autorun.inf_ was being automatically executed.

Jisung had no knowledge about computers or technical shit, but he guessed as long as the system was running programs automatically, he was on the safe side, so he simply leaned back and let the computer do its thing.

He really needed to ask Seungmin to teach him at least the basics of how programs worked if he was going to be doing this kind of job more in the future.

He didn't exactly know _what_ he was doing though, but he didn't need to because _Jeongin_ knew and that was enough.

While the computer was working its magic, he lazily let his gaze wander around, scanning over what was being shown on the screens in order to have at least _something_ to do.

There was a strange gnawing feeling in his stomach and he really needed a distraction before he started questioning his actions again.

He'd done that before, several times actually, too curious to simply obey orders he had been given and to put it mildly, Jeongin hadn't been all that pleased. Jisung didn't like it when he wasn't pleased.

The screen that showed the gym was vivid with life, the students still in the process of trying to prevent the backdrop from falling off the wall, some frustrated, some just enjoying the misery of their classmates.

Another one was the garden where a few volunteers were planting flowers to substitute for those that hadn't survived the harsh winter, plucking out dandelions that had sprouted in between and tossing them out as if the pretty flowers were weeds.

Then there was the library where a study session was held, one of the senior girls talking to a group of younger students, all of them seemingly listening intently as the girl demonstrated something on a flip chart she had probably borrowed from one of the classrooms.

And of course the main foyer where some girls were currently huddled around a table in the middle, more and more streaming in from the different tracts as if they were moths drawn to light.

Jisung couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, so he wondered what that was about, but he didn't spend too much time dwelling on it, his eyes going over to the last of the big screens, one that showed their music classroom with the elegant and expensive piano.

He was surprised to see someone sitting in front of it, fingers lightly and completely naturally moving over the keys in a soundless performance and eyes closed as if he was reveling in his own art.

He seemed so peaceful and completely in his element, like he had been playing the piano all his life, and Jisung instinctively leaned forward, trying to identify the unknown person.

Brown hair.

Lots of people had brown hair. Nothing special.

Black turtleneck and striped jacket, as well as a silver earring dangling from his left ear.

Wait.

Was that...?

The boy suddenly looked up from his hands and straight into the security camera, almost as if an instinct had drawn his gaze to it, and Jisung's heart skipped a beat as those beautiful eyes settled on him yet again.

Well, not really, but he could pretend.

The boy stared at the camera like a deer caught in headlights, apparently having not noticed it prior, and Jisung watched his expression go from surprise to undisguised horror and straight up panic.

He retracted his hands from the piano as if it had burned him, a string of what seemed like curses escaping him as he abruptly turned away from the camera, breaking the magical moment for the second time that day.

He picked up his bag from the ground, trying very hard to keep his head down as much as possible so his face was hidden from direct view.

Jisung wondered what he was doing that for.

The boy couldn't have commited any crimes, right?

A short sound from the computer informed him that the file was done and he averted his gaze to concentrate on the task he still had to fulfill.

A new window had popped up on the screen, asking him if he wanted to import the 44 pictures and 19 videos from the flash drive and he clicked 'yes', waiting for the data set to be transferred over to the system.

For a brief moment, in a sudden onset of childish curiosity, he toyed with the thought of checking out just what exactly was on those photos and videos, but he discarded that idea as quickly as it had come, feeling as if he would break Jeongin's trust if he snooped around like this.

As long as the younger hadn't explicitly given him permission, he was not to look at the pictures. So he wouldn't.

Jisung rose from his chair, depositing the ID on the table like he had been instructed to, making sure to hide it by shoving it under the keyboard until only a tiny edge peeked out.

He kept the flash drive where it was, plugged into the system unit so that it looked as if the room had been left in a hurry, and after a last remorseful glance at the filing cabinet, he pressed the handle of the door down and pushed it open.

With another step he was back in the hallway that was just as empty as before, but for some reason his stomach was churning as he let go of the door.

He wanted to think it was just because he'd failed to get the file for Jeongin, but something deep down told him that it wasn't true.

Something deep down screamed at him as the automatic lock clicked into place, effectively locking him out with no way to undo what he had just done.

Jisung was usually skilled in ignoring any and all protests from his body, so he pushed through the feeling by taking a few steadying breaths, trying to distance himself emotionally like Jeongin had advised him to do, but for some reason, it didn't work.

All that his attempt brought him was a headache and a burn in his throat as if he was choking up stomach acid, coupled with a sudden onset of nausea that had him swaying on his feet.

He struggled to keep his breakfast to himself, feeling disgusted and disgusting as he stumbled towards the stairs, his head screaming at him to get the hell out of here.

Here.

Jisung wondered where _here_ was.


	7. [White Rook]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breathe if you think that World Klass was an underrated survival show and Robin deserved better.
> 
> Better believe I'll be pushing that Robin x Felix agenda until I die.
> 
> *Also, a side note: The leader of World Klass is Lee Jaeyun, but for this story only, his name is **Yoo** Jaeyun.

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**''WHITE'' adjusts a piece.** _

Seungmin hated his appointments.

He hated everything about them.

He hated getting up in the morning, mind still tangled up in a comforting dream as he was padding tiredly towards the bathroom, coming face to face with the calendar he had put there.

There were almost exclusively empty spaces staring back at him, the only exception being the bright red cross over the 15th of every month.

The bright red cross that screamed at him that he was due.

He hated being due.

He hated retrieving his medical pass, seeing the confirmation of all his previous visits stamped on there as he stuffed it into his bag, knowing he still had to attend university afterwards even if he felt like shit coming out of that hellhole with all its flowers on the tables and cheerful posters in the hallways that were grinning at him.

He hated being so caught up in his morning routine that he never noticed himself pressing _that_ number while he was busy making breakfast that he wouldn't eat anyway and taking his prescribed dose of medication before his symptoms could even start to creep up on him.

These days, his normal dose was sufficient to keep them out of his hair for the day, banish them into the corners of his consciousness while he went about his business, and he appreciated being able to move without that suffocating pressure on his chest all the time.

_''This number is not in service at this time.''_

The off-hook tone screeched in Seungmin's ear as it always did and his throat closed up on him as a response, even if he had known it was going to be like this.

Of course the number wasn't in service anymore. Of course not.

Of course.

He didn't know why he kept pretending to forget it, why he kept calling anyway, but he hated it.

He hated his heart painfully thumping in his chest, he hated his eyes welling up and blurring his surroundings, he hated his hands shaking as he placed the phone down again and he hated realizing how much he hated this entire situation.

And still, he put himself through this torture every once in a while, just to tear his wounds back open, just to remind himself to never let them close because closing meant forgetting and he wasn't going to do that to himself.

Much less to _him_.

So here he was once again at the hospital.

''Good morning, Seungmin'', the receptionist greeted him as he stepped into the familiar room, his nose instantly filling with the smell of that sterile soap they used everywhere around here. ''Are you here for your appointment?''

Of course he was.

Why else would he ever even glance at the building if not to participate in this weird ritual of meeting up with whichever medical professional wanted to see him this time and assure them that he was doing just fine?

He handed her his medical pass, his icy fingers lightly brushing her warm ones, yet she didn't even flinch as she gave him an reassuring smile, waving him off to the waiting room.

The hallways were nearly empty as he strolled towards the open space, save for a few doctors and nurses going about their business and a handful of patients who seemed to not have gotten much sleep the previous night.

Seungmin felt out of place with his school bag, his almost neat and combed hair and the slight makeup he had applied today and he nervously wrung his hands, already imagining people to stare at him, wondering what a healthy kid like him was doing here. Like always.

They never asked him directly, but they always assumed things and he grew increasingly more uncomfortable whenever he heard people talk about him as if he couldn't hear them.

Today though, nobody even did so much as spare him a glance and even though he appreciated the solitude, he despised it just as much because the seat next to his felt so empty this time around.

Once upon a time, a very dear friend had used to accompany Seungmin, knowing how hard it was for him to motivate himself to come here, and coincidentally, the days when he had been right next to Seungmin in the room, holding his hand as the evaluation took place, were always the ones with the best results.

Seungmin liked to believe his friend had some sort of godly energy that had prevented his condition from getting worse, but the truth was simply that he hadn't been as sick back then as he was now.

Well, that wasn't true.

He was getting better.

Had been getting better for months.

Physically, at least.

Mentally, he was more of a wreck than he'd ever been and of course he'd gotten comments on his play again when none were really needed and he did actually know how shit of a job he did not to get his pieces captured.

He hated being made to play this stupid game of chess.

He hated treating people, close friends even, as if they were nothing more than tools to gain an advantage with in this messed up match that had been rigged from the start.

He hated that kid.

 _I.N_ or whatever the hell he went by in real life.

Seungmin hadn't been able to figure it out for years, no matter how many databases he had hacked through, and at this point, he had mostly given up on doing so because it didn't matter anyway.

If he wasn't going to catch I.N outside of the setting he had oh so carefully prepared for the two of them, he just had to beat him at his own game.

Easier said than done of course.

''Ah, Seungmin. Good morning.''

A hand appeared in his view and Seungmin tried a smile as he took it, standing up to follow the man responsible for him to the elevator.

He didn't bother to reply, knowing he had to talk enough as soon as they went into that room, and not wanting to waste his breath on formalities.

It was the third floor, as it always was, and the ninth room on the right, the one that was specifically reserved for him and the one that the doctors told him _belonged_ to him.

He had spent most of his therapy sessions here, had both lived and died within these four walls, always with a warm presence at his side that had gently held his hand and whispered words of comfort into his ear.

After he had been discharged from the hospital, the room had been turned into something akin to a counseling office that he had been given the freedom to decorate however he wished, but the only thing he had insisted on putting in there was the certificate he had been handed right after his discharge.

He didn't need it at his home. In his life.

It hung on the wall, next to the window and Seungmin immediately strode over to it, tears welling up in his eyes as always as he stared at the words that should have brought him comfort. That should have symbolized a turning point in his life.

That should have made him glad to still be here.

Which he wasn't.

He'd rather be dead.

The man had taken a seat on the table in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for him to finish his little ritual as he checked the medical records from last session.

''You've been getting better'', he hummed approvingly and Seungmin nodded, his gaze shifting from the certificate to the window, watching the thick fog that still stretched out over the city.

It was so cold for March.

He thought the flowers would have already begun to bloom, but as of now, there was no trace of it being spring.

Nature was still sad, he figured.

Winter had come early last year and it would end late this year which was fitting because he knew his heart would be stuck in winter forever anyway.

''How are you feeling today, Seungmin?''

It was always the first question and Seungmin always responded to it the same way.

''Fine.''

He wondered if he was as fine as he always told everyone, but who would be there to call him out on it being bullshit?

The man scribbled something into his notebook, deliberately taking his time and Seungmin recognized it as his clue to get to the table and sit down.

The chair was just as uncomfortable as last time.

''Have you eaten?''

''I'm not hungry.''

He always tried to make it appear like smalltalk, even if it clearly wasn't.

Seungmin wasn't here to have smalltalk with some random doctor who had poked around in his body without his permission and left that grueling scar on his skin as a token of having _saved_ him.

Just when he'd made his peace with the fact that he was going to die, this goddamn Samaritan had swooped in and pulled him away from the abyss grinning up at him, the abyss that had swallowed his friend already without a word.

And this asshole had assumed he'd want to live anyway.

''Can you describe your current condition to me? How does your body feel? Your mind?''

Exhausted was probably the word he'd choose, but that wasn't anything new.

He remembered falling into bed at four in the afternoon, drained of all strength after merely walking across the room once.

He remembered not even being able to finish daily tasks like cleaning or doing homework without completely dozing off in the middle of it and only waking up two hours later with no memory of how he had gotten where he was.

He remembered barely functioning whenever he got less than ten hours of rest and his mind consequently making up some weird, mostly auditory, hallucinations to torture him.

The worst as of now was his friend's voice desperately calling out for Seungmin to help him, an echo in the void that haunted him with its authenticity, leaving him gasping for air and crying whenever he realized that no one was there.

He was exhausted.

But of course he wasn't going to admit that.

''I've been okay.''

He couldn't.

''Do your wounds hurt a lot?''

When he was allowed to take his medication, it was good.

He could execute his normal daily activities with little to no strain, his body having gone numb from the pills and the powder and the chemicals he pumped it full with.

When it was good, he could settle down on the grassy fields on campus, content to bask in the sun's light and not think about anything, his mind wiped of all memories, leaving only a comfortable warmth to indulge in.

Arguably the best thing was he didn't feel the constant need to hurt himself gnawing at his resolve when he was on his medication.

The drug was powerful, most likely doing more harm than good at this stage of recovery, yet he couldn't do without it.

Because when he wasn't allowed to take it, it was bad.

And when it was bad, he couldn't even take a single step without the stitches protesting, tearing themselves open as he restlessly scratched at the scars, at the tender skin, forcing blood out of his still damaged body.

When it was bad, he lay curled up in his bed, skin hot to every touch and breaths ragged as he willed himself to disappear from this world, the hammering memories in his head splitting his skull in half with their force.

When it was bad, all he wanted was to tear the itching wounds open completely, drive a knife into his chest and rip his skin off, destroying every little progress he'd made up until that point.

When it was bad, he cried himself to sleep because of the stinging and overwhelming ache spreading all throughout his body and the screaming he heard in his head, the hallucinations that lingered at the corner of his bed.

They had tried taking him off his medication three times already, but it had always ended in disaster; blood, sweat and tears alike mixing on his face as he'd screamed and scratched at his body for being so useless.

They had tried switching out his medication once too without telling him, trying to get him used to milder means, but his body wasn't having it and had spasmed out on him, so that had been yet another failure.

But right now, he had his only source of grace accessible at home.

Right now, it was manageable.

''The pain is tolerable most days.''

''When was the last time you experienced any severe symptoms?''

Seungmin paused.

He'd come to expect that question, not a single meet-up passing by without him being asked about his symptoms, but it still caught him off guard regardless and that was what it was meant to do.

They both knew his body had taken to the medication and everything alike relatively well, adjusting almost immediately to the high dose of chemicals, yet there had been some setbacks along the way, disgusting and repulsive sessions that left him as a miserable crying heap over the toilet.

The last time had been particularly bad, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth as he'd violently coughed up his medication and his heart and his soul and his pain.

Not that it had been enough to truly rid him off that sticky feeling clinging to his skin or the absence of that comforting voice that had accompanied him all throughout his painful journey, time and time again stressing how well he was doing.

Even on the days where he could barely walk, on the days where he lay curled up in his bed, his friend had been there for him, offering words of comfort and praise when Seungmin needed them the most.

_''I know you and you're trying your best right now.''_

It was probably the one sentence he had heard the most, on bad days almost nonstop, and still, it had never lost his effect on him, had never ceased to chase the demons away that laughed in his ears or scratched at his scars or loomed over him as if to devour him.

But of course, like all good things, it had only worked so long.

''15th September.''

The questions continued like this, going back and forth, up and down, left and right, and he made sure to answer to every single one because if he didn't, he would only prolong the time these meet-ups would go on for.

After the questioning, there was a physical examination up ahead and even if he didn't like standing half-naked in front of a complete stranger, he found he could ignore the feeling of uneasiness in favor of assuring himself that this was the last part of his check-up and he wouldn't have to do it again for at least a month.

It wasn't a lot of comfort, but it was enough for him to stay still while the man carefully examined the stitches on his bare waist, seemingly very pleased by his quick recovery.

The scars would always remain on his skin, but it was better this way because it meant that he would never forget why he was here.

He didn't like looking at the tender line stretching lengthwise over his chest, however, at the same time he was thankful for its existence because it reminded Seungmin of _him_.

Him who had left his mark on Seungmin's body, both in the physical and mental sense.

''I'll take a blood sample, alright?''

He extended his arm, noticing how much he was shaking, but if the man noticed as well, he didn't comment on it as he prepared the needle and disinfected the spot where it would penetrate his skin.

It was always the same spot and the routine calmed and unnerved him at the same time.

He was unable to actually watch the process, his gaze instead fixed on the window and the sky that was clearing up behind it, indicating that the majority of his morning had already passed him.

It was a nice day. Cold, but sunny.

Was it sunny too where his friend was?

Did the sun always shine on him wherever he went, every step light and leaving a trail of stardust behind?

Where even was he right now? Was he happy there?

Happier than here?

So many questions he would never get an answer to until he followed him to that place where the sun always shone and the sea breeze smelled of freedom and the flowers waved happily at him as he strolled past them.

He really wanted to go to that place soon.

A stinging pinch in his arm made him hiss, even if it didn't hurt all that much, but it was over almost as soon as he registered it and when the man gave a firm nod, Seungmin knew he was finally done.

He didn't say goodbye to anyone on his way out because he never really left this place anyway.

The biting cold greeted him the moment he left the hospital behind him and he shouldered his bag, taking off towards the university that was only ten minutes from here.

During the early morning hours, the streets were filled with students, both motivated and tired alike as they chatted to each other about their lives and their homework and their pathetic problems, but right about now, everything lay quietly in front of him, the scenery undisturbed as he approached the massive building.

As always, he approached it from the wrong side, finding himself in front of the biology tract, and he sighed, adjusting the collar of his jacket before he reached out to open the door to his own personal hell.

He didn't visit this tract much anymore, after all he had no reason to, but his body more often than not lead him here anyway and he was left staring at the display cases in the hallways that contained insects whose names he couldn't pronounce, such as Phasmatodea or Cicadidae, both of which he only knew because of his friend's repeated visits.

There were few of them, both of them occupied with their studies at different universities, but when he came, he could spend endless amounts of time in these hallways, looking at all the animals and talking about how much he enjoyed watching actual living beings instead of just exploring the chemical processes related to them like most time in his major was spent.

Biochemistry was one hell of a major.

Seungmin couldn't understand how people put themselves through the torture that was chemistry, much less how they could show actual interest into the subject, but he wasn't one to talk when he had willingly chosen Computer Science and Technology as his major.

It had not yet screwed him over, but it wouldn't take much longer, especially with all the digging around in private files he did.

Sooner or later they'd be able to trace it back to him, no matter how thorough he was in concealing his activities, and he didn't know what he was going to do then.

But even knowing the risk, he didn't stop. He couldn't.

The air in the hallway was stuffy and too hot, no doubt a side effect of all those lamps in the display cases, but it was also so strangely _vibrant_ that Seungmin could immediately tell that something was up as he slowly made his way towards the main foyer.

More and more voices welled up the closer he got, screeches and cheers alike, and he briefly wondered if the university had decided to host a concert.

It wouldn't be the oddest thing they had done, even if the point in time seemed mildly inconvenient with mid-terms just around the corner.

However, the complete lack of any music suggested that something else was going on, so he quickened his pace andmade his way towards where all the noise was coming from.

As soon as he pushed against the door leading into the foyer, heat rushed past him, wanting to escape the confines of the stuffy room, and the voices increased tenfold as he was finally able to see what the cause of this riot was.

People were flocking around a table in the middle like sheep and a cluster of clicks from smartphones went off in regular intervalls, bright lights flooding the room.

Had a celebrity come to university?

But for what reason? And who was it?

Seungmin stepped closer, only to experience another round of applause, coupled with agitated cursing as someone was shoved into the foyer through the door that led to the art tract, his blonde hair sprinkled with tiny specks of paint.

''Seriously, what the hell? I was in the middle of preparing the gym, this better be important!''

Lee Felix.

The boy from Australia who had dropped his entire plans of studying dance at the University of Sydney in favor of following his best friend since childhood days to Korea where he had pursued a graphic design study instead.

Seungmin didn't know all that much about him, only scraping his profile on his research for what he _actually_ needed, but he saw Jisung hang out with the boy somewhat regularly when he wasn't busy being Jeongin's bitch.

Well, maybe that phrasing was a little harsh on his part.

Seungmin had yet to actually encounter the other male after all and he didn't have any reason to believe he was a bad person, so him being rude like this was unnecessary.

From what Jisung always let on, Jeongin was merely a very dear friend of his and maybe an angel descended from the heavens as well.

Or, well... a manipulative asshole that mercilessly took advantage of Jisung's trusting nature.

He wasn't sure which one.

There was a sudden shift in the crowd around the table as someone Seungmin previously hadn't seen jumped up from the table, waving his arms around like crazy as he fought his way through the mass of people towards Felix.

''Lixie! Lixie!!''

Felix's slightly sour expression dissolved into nothing and made way for an overjoyed smile as he suddenly launched himself forward and right into the other boy's arms who barely managed to catch him without stumbling.

Immediately, more clicking sounds could be heard as the moment was captured on dozens of cameras, Felix and the boy caught in an embrace and a moment that only belonged to the two of them.

Despite plenty of people being around, none of that seemed to matter as sobs escaped Felix and he pressed himself tighter to what Seungmin could assume was a very dear friend of his.

The boy clearly had difficulties calming him down, his hand ruffling the blonde strands lovingly, smearing paint all over them, but Felix didn't even notice as he buried his head deeper into the boy's chest.

Some of the students seemed to realize it was inappropriate of them to watch and started trailing towards the exit to give the two some space, but the vast majority continued peering with no decency or shame as if it was their business, disrupting the tranquil moment.

At least they were quiet, he guessed.

''I missed you, Bin.''

''I missed you too, Lixie.''

There was a short pause as the boy, Bin, hesitated, but in the end, he submitted to his desire and let his fingers trail down Felix's face and all the way to his collarbone, causing Felix to shudder in pleasure, still not caring that everyone was watching him.

Seungmin felt his cheeks heat up and he had the urge to avert his gaze, yet something, maybe his own curiosity, was forcing him to keep looking at the scene, drinking in all the fondness and gentle touches he saw before him.

''Didn't you say you were going on world tour?''

World tour?

So this guy was an idol?

How did Felix know him then?

''We _are_ currently on tour, but I still wanted to see you'', came the amused reply and a few girls at the front squealed, successfully drawing the attention of both boys who seemed to realize for the first time that they weren't alone.

They parted, but the damage was already done and captured on the phones of all those people, so it really didn't make a difference.

''Are you boyfriends?''

Felix choked on air at the question and adjusted his collar in a feeble attempt to hide his embarrassment, but Bin merely let out a dry chuckle, his hand closing around Felix's in a display of reassurance as he tugged him closer again.

''Not yet, but we're getting there.''

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and Felix made a half-hearted attemt to lash out at him, but was stopped in his tracks by Bin taking his other hand as well, leaving no space for him to do anything else other than simply stare disapprovingly.

''Hey, we're just... just friends...'', he weakly disagreed, his gaze meeting Bin's for a second before he quickly looked away again, cheeks flushing red.

Once again, Seungmin was aware of how incredibly intimate this conversation was and how he was intruding on their privacy just like everyone else, but before he could actually turn around and get out, the door to the art tract opened again and a group of people poured in, all dressed in what looked like fancy stage outfits as they gazed around the room, eyes widening as they saw Bin and the position he was stuck in with Felix.

There were nine members in total, probably all belonging to the same idol group, and Seungmin could tell they were taken aback by so many people gathering in the foyer, but the leader handled it relatively well by shooting the crowd a smile and moving to stand next to Bin to formally introduce themselves, as was the tradition.

''1, 2. Step out! Hello, we are World Klass!''

The students cheered, most of them being familiar with World Klass, one of the most successful groups of the decade, and lights flashed again as group photos were taken, no doubt to flex with later.

The leader, a blond guy wearing a black vest over his white button-up, waited until the frenzy of camera flashes died down before he spoke again, his voice clear and pleasing to the ear.

''Nice to meet you, everyone. As some of you already know, my name is Yoo Jaeyun and I'm the leader of World Klass.''

He made a step back to direct the attention to his members who seemed slightly flustered at having to endure the stares and cheers of so many people, but did their best to smile and wave as if they were comfortable with it.

Jaeyun just smiled, enjoying their struggle for a few seconds before he took control of the situation again by silencing the fans with a single gesture.

''I hope you're all having a great day so far. We, especially our youngest Robin-'', he gave a nod towards Robin who was still holding onto Felix's hand, softly caressing it as he gave the audience a shy smile, ''-would like to sincerely apologize for having disrupted your school day. We're currently in Seoul due to _private_ reasons, but Robin thought he'd pay a quick visit to university to visit his best friend, apparently forgetting that he is a worldwide known idol.''

His tone of voice didn't change, but Seungmin caught the underlying bite that lay concealed behind a pleasant mask of cheerfulness and confidence and he was glad not to be on the receiving end of it.

''Jaeyun hyung-'', Robin tried to object, not quite happy with the portrayal of his intentions, but he was merely silenced by another hand gesture and a warning glare that couldn't have been clearer.

_We'll talk about this later._

''Please excuse the inconvenience.''

He bowed and the rest of his members followed, even Felix who was in no way part of the group, but felt like he should apologize as well.

''On a positive note'', Jaeyun continued without missing a beat, probably putting to use all of his training on how to avoid awkward situations, ''we're happy to announce that we're currently on our first ever World Tour and will be coming to Seoul very soon, so make sure to get your tickets right away!''

He paused for a minute to let the applause and excited chattering wash over him before he continued, his voice raised slightly to have everyone hear him.

''We will be performing all songs from our first album _Reason For Being:_ _Benevolence,_ but we have also prepared some very special bonus songs for you, so do look forward to our performance. All profits made from this tour go towards IJM, International Justice Mission, which is an anti human trafficking organization, so please support us in bringing justice to the world. Thank you.''

While another round of applause set in, Jaeyun shooed his members out of the main foyer through the biology tract before the faculty could catch wind of the fact that they had been there in the first place.

Robin was trying to detach his hand from Felix's to follow his group, but when the other boy wouldn't let go of him and just gave him a playful smile instead, he settled for intertwining their fingers and pulling Felix with him.

It was an endearing sight, but it tugged at Seungmin's heartstrings all the same as he remembered he had once been exactly like that, exactly like Felix.

Always in such high spirits with his best friend, always seeking comfort on his shoulder and being very touchy in general, even in front of other people.

He too had whispered things like 'I missed you', had clung to the familiarity and feeling of home that came with his best friend's presence and had joked around about the fact that they could pass as lovers.

But that wasn't possible anymore for him.

Because his best friend was no longer here.

And it was his fault.

With that realization came the familiar pounding in his ears, came the hyperawareness of his heart that plodded in his chest, painfully and way too fast, and even though he had been taught how to fight the symptoms, he found he didn't _want_ to.

Because forcing this panic attack down meant forgetting about its cause and he couldn't do that to himself. Or to him.

His hands started shaking and he felt strangely light-headed all of a sudden, the need to breathe pressing down on his chest as his lungs struggled to expand.

He couldn't breathe.

No matter how desperately he gasped for air, there seemed to be none in the room and the pressure in his head increased, his vision swimming in front of his eyes and only a single thought protruding in his mind.

_Get out._

He nodded frantically, reaching out to grab a hold of something, anything that could help him to navigate outside, but when he didn't manage to find something right away, he panicked even further, his own gasps reaching his ears, mixing with an awful and penetrant ringing that seemed to originate in his head.

_Get out!_

A tingling sensation made its way down his arms, numbing all feeling in his hands and fingers, and he once again attempted to breathe.

The room was too full.

There were too many people.

Too many people for too little oxygen.

_Get out, get out, get out, get out!_

His mind was screaming at him, yet it was barely audible over the constant ringing that was gnawing at his brain, inducing a headache.

It was loud. Too loud.

Just so fucking loud that it was unbearable.

Seungmin felt rather than heard himself scream, the volume of it not even coming close to blocking out the ringing.

His hands pressed on his ears, hoping to muffle the sound and stop it from completely overwhelming him, but it persisted, right there in the very corners of his conscience as a shrieking and shrill presence.

And then, without any premonition, it was gone again, leaving only its haunting echoes to thump in Seungmin's mind while his body struggled to get enough air to breathe.

Nothing he couldn't deal with.

''Seungmin.''

Okay, maybe he'd gotten ahead of himself.

Because there was the dreaded voice again, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, from inside and outside, from his soul and his heart.

The voice was hoarse. Breathless. Exhausted.

Pain was seeping through every single syllable that was forcefully pressed out, and his heart reacted instinctively, picking up its pace even more.

No. _No._

Why did he sound so real?

''Hyung...''

He didn't know his auditory hallucinations had gotten this bad.

He thought he'd been over this phase, after all he was regularly taking his prescribed dose of medication, sometimes even more just to effectively shut out anything and everything around him so he could further spiral down into his self-hatred of his own volition.

But apparently it hadn't sufficed today because they were back. He heard his voice again.

And that couldn't be possible.

''You're not real'', he croaked out, tears already spilling from his eyes and his gaze glazing over from where it was fixed on the wall, that ugly brown brick wall that they had always sat against whenever Seungmin had ditched class because of him. ''You're not real.''

''Seungmin, please listen to me.''

His smile flashed in the younger boy's mind, coupled with that unique, but genuine laugh of his, and he cringed away from the memory as he felt his stomach roar, hoping his body had enough decency to stop teasing him now.

It wasn't funny.

He was just trying to get better. Just trying to be better. Just trying to move on. Just trying to _live_.

He had promised to do as much.

''You're not real!'', he repeated, barely aware of the liquid streaming down his face as he willed the voice to disappear into the corner of his mind it had crawled out from.

His heartbeat was heavy and foreign in his chest, every frantic beat making him a little more light-headed as a white veil started to appear over his surroundings, but he held onto his consciousness, if only to hallucinate his hyung's voice a moment longer.

There was a tired sigh, the likes of which was so authentic that it was like a punch to the gut, and the raspy laugh that followed was somehow even _worse_.

''Still as stubborn as ever, are we?''

He didn't know what to reply to that.

He liked to believe he had improved himself, gotten rid of all his negative traits as a part of this whole process he had undergone, but he guessed not.

Right back to square one. Fucking wonderful.

All those months of therapy, all those medications and here he was, hallucinating and tripping as day one.

''Meet me at our favorite place.''

Seungmin wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of this whole situation, of his own hallucinations telling him what to do, but no sound escaped him.

This was fucked up.

''Seungmin, please. I need your help.''

Bile rose in his throat, an all too familiar nausea taking hold of him, yet he still managed one last broken sounding sentence before his hand flew to his mouth to stop what could be stopped.

''You're gonna be in trouble if you aren't there.''

He really wanted to believe. He did.

''I'll be there. I promise.''

But he had already broken his promise once.


	8. [White Bishop]

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**''WHITE'' is put in Zugzwang.** _

_**> >Definition: The obligation to move, when any move at all will be bad.<<** _

Han river was beautiful at night.

It looked so serene and peaceful stretching out under him as he leaned against the handrail, enjoying the night despite the almost freezing temperatures.

It had snowed quite a bit earlier which was unusual for March, but Minho couldn't say he particularly disliked the powdery whiteness clinging to the metal, even if it did bite into his skin after a while.

He had been here for the better part of the night he guessed, though without a clock it was difficult to say how long he'd been watching the colorful lights bouncing on the river's smooth surface and the stars twinkling in the sky as if telling him their story.

Minho had his own story as well, looking to share it with the river and the stars and the soft breeze once more, even if they already knew everything about it.

The coldness clung to him from hours of standing in the same spot, but he didn't make an effort to move because of his perfect view on the rainbow fountains that stood out even more against the dark night.

The continued splashing was a nice background noise to drown out the suffocating silence that stemmed from the distinct lack of people around him, only the occasional insomniac passing him on their way to get yet another coffee.

Nobody that would recognize him.

He closed his eyes for a moment and heaved a sigh, propping his head up on his hands – making sure to keep as much weight off his right hand as he could – as he stared into the dark, searching for something that wasn't there. Maybe another piece of his shredded soul.

It was yet another one of these melancholic days.

Another day where he had woken up with a headache, unwilling to drag himself out of bed or go through the trouble of visiting the dance studio, no matter how much his heart yearned to return to this place.

It was another day of pumping himself full of the poison they had used to destroy his body, the poison he craved on days like these for whatever sadistic reason his broken mind had made up.

It was another day of staring at the newspaper until his eyes watered and he couldn't make out the taunting headline anymore that followed him into his nightmares and into his reality.

_Starlight Entertainment's nationwide search for missing idol Lee Know still ongoing._

He hated seeing his picture on the front page, reminding him that even after months and months of laying low, he was still somehow the highest trending news story out there.

He would have figured there were more pressing matters in the world right now, especially with the worrying peak of crimes that were being committed around here, but the bastards over at the company could always buy their way into the headlines anyway, so it wasn't really a big surprise to see his face once again plastered all over the first page of _Seoul National._

They were still looking for him, the existence of every article a firm, but hidden warning that he was not yet off the hook.

That he was not going to make it on his own.

That they would tear down his reputation piece by piece until he couldn't hope to make any money with this pitiful excuse of a career ever again.

It was the subtle insults in between the lines, the arrogant and overconfident words that we would return sooner or later and the straight up lies that had him fuming every time he could be bothered to check the newspaper, but he knew this was what they wanted.

They wanted him to react to these accusations, show himself to the public so they could track him down, and even if he didn't want to give them that satisfaction, he felt backed into a corner.

He sighed, unconsciously putting more pressure on his right hand as he adjusted his position, and his nerves immediately made the familiar searing pain flare up that was pretty much a perpetual companion at this point.

A hiss escaped him, but his gaze never parted with the lovely skyline of Seoul's panoramic night and all its twinkling lights that acted like stars of their own.

From his spot on the bridge he couldn't make out the towering twenty story building he'd come to fear so much, even if it stood out like crazy with the stars drawn all over the side and the bright lights leaving trails behind them.

A pretentious design for a pretentious piece of shit company.

Minho hated Starlight.

He hated everything it stood for, every single cozy studio with the polished floors, every person to wander the pristine hallways, looking as arrogant and conceited as could be.

Most of all, he hated everything these people did unter the pretense of 'shaping their idols into the best person they could possibly be' or whatever the hell excuse they had for their actions.

The idol industry wasn't an easy one. Minho knew that.

It was sexist and cruel and cold, hit him in the face with blatant force and made him stumble before cradling him in its warm embrace and rocking him until he felt safe and comfortable.

The bliss never lasted though.

The industry wouldn't allow it, not granting him a minute of rest before it shoved a new rookie group into his face, presented an innovative and cool tune or song or put him under pressure with other groups' extraordinary choreographies that had the fans roaring in ecstasy.

It was impossible to keep up with other idols' standards while also maintaining his own style and finding joy in what he did.

What had fascinated him about this merciless competition and fights for the BMA's or MAMA's or whatever was a mystery to him, but he remembered his eyes used to sparkle whenever he had watched performances on TV.

He had wanted to be on a stage too, feel the cheers of thousands of fans reverberating from the walls and shake him to his very core while he put on a show for them, bathing in all the attention, support and admiration they showered him with.

Nowadays, he just wanted to throw himself off this bridge and into the oblivion of the river beneath him.

High up in the sky, a star twinkled in reply, maybe in encouragement, maybe in apathy, and as Minho focused on that faint light, his mind replayed the images of the day he had signed his life away.

_The office was strangely homely._

_It was darker than Minho would have expected, the windows all tinted black to form a contrast to the white stars that had been painted on the glass in all different kinds of sizes and shapes._

_Glowing stars adorned the wall to his sides in various constellations, lighting up the room enough for him to see the CEO of Starlight himself, Mr. Hong, sitting at the other end of the long wooden table stretching out in front of him._

_''Sit down, Minho.''_

_It was supposed to be a friendly offer, but it registered in Minho's mind as an order and he slowly pushed the chair back, bowing before he allowed himself to sit._

_In the dim light of the room he could faintly make out the contract so neatly placed in front of him, as well as a glass of water and pen next to it that had Starlight Entertainment's logo printed on its side._

_He was slightly confused about the presence of a contract already, so he chose to ignore it for the time being, keeping his hands to himself and shooting Mr. Hong a small smile as tension radiated off him in waves._

_''Thank you for inviting me, sir.''_

_''Call me hyung, Minho'', the man interrupted him, shifting in his seat as he examined Minho. ''We all know each other here at Starlight.''_

_Minho nodded and unconsciously licked his lips, his mouth suddenly gone dry._

_He had the urge to take a sip of the water, but something held him back, prevented his hands from moving as he kept his eyes on the CEO._

_The man's gaze showed how intrigued he was as he let it wander over Minho's body as if he was just a product to be marketed, just another trophy to add to his collection to flex with later._

_It was an uncomfortable feeling, one that made Minho want to hug himself, hide as much from this man as possible._

_Right off the bat, something didn't sit well with him, however, instead of leaving immediately as he probably should have, he remained seated, almost frozen into spot under the hungry gaze roaming him._

_''Tell me about your special talents, Minho.''_

_There was no effort to get to know Minho as a person, no effort to slowly introduce the company, its motivation or goals for the future._

_There was just an order. An evaluation how much he was worth._

_He shouldn't have to do this to himself._

_But this was the industry, right?_

_''It's dance. I have been making choreographies from a very young age, most of them without any help. I am also a vocalist and a rapper, but dance is definitely my strong point.''_

_''And?''_

_The CEO's harsh and cold tone was unexpected, cooling the room by at least five degrees, and he flinched in surprise, not knowing what he was supposed to reply to that._

_He'd always prided himself on being able to do both vocals and rap on top of dance, having trained relentlessly to obtain skills in all three categories, so why was this achievement being downplayed like it was nothing? What else did he want to hear?_

_As if reading his thoughts, the man frowned._

_''That's not an impressive achievement, Minho. Anyone could do that.''_

_The words shouldn't sting as badly as they did._

_He knew there weren't a lot of idols in the industry who could do everything he did, so the implications of that statement made no sense._

_Idols specialized in either rap or vocal and **maybe** dance too, but it wasn't the norm, especially not at the beginning of their trainee days._

_''With all due respect, si-... hyung, it's really not that common for idols to be able to do multiple things.''_

_The man scoffed and Minho shrunk a little in his seat._

_He'd probably already blown his chance with this company._

_''I don't think you know what you're talking about. But what do I expect from someone who has already been rejected twice by companies?''_

_They knew about that. They **knew.**_

_How?_

_Minho hadn't exactly made a big deal out of it and he had been sure the companies hadn't either._

_There had simply been 'too many promising trainees and too little capacities', so of course some had to cut back on their dreams for the time being and that hadn't been a problem._

_Minho hadn't taken it to heart, not the first time and not the second time it had happened, but bringing it up right now made him feel vulnerable._

_He was being put in a spot where he had to justify himself for failing twice already, something that was looked down upon by this man, something that probably made him believe he was untalented._

_He'd never considered himself untalented, at least not until now._

_Maybe the CEO was right and he really wasn't as much of a special snowflake as he had wanted to make himself believe._

_Maybe he was just arrogant and that had been the reason he hadn't been picked._

_''Seriously, the fact that no company wants to work with you really makes me question your professionalism and competency.''_

_The stab was painful, the implications that it had been his own fault only now really registering with his brain._

_He had always believed himself to be the calm and professional type, not at all someone who would put people off with his attitude towards others, but was this just self-denial?_

_Was that just the image of himself he had made up in his head and hidden behind in order to keep people from seeing his real personality?_

_If so, was his belief that he was a genuinely good dancer, rapper or vocalist **also** something he had made up in his head as a narcissistic maneuver of putting himself above others?_

_No wonder nobody had wanted to take him in._

_At this rate nobody would ever do so in the first place, why had he even held hope that he would make his debut in the idol world?_

_Why hadn't he just pursued a damn study, something that would have brought him a stable income?_

_What the hell had he been thinking?_

_That he could walk up to a company with no real prior knowledge and a fake facade and get offered a spot and a sweet contract?_

_''You don't have what it takes. Seriously, you are a disgrace to this industry.''_

_He figured he was. He didn't even know the industry._

_''I'm sorry, hyung.''_

_His voice was hoarse, but he kept his hands to himself, feeling like he hadn't earned the privilege of taking a sip of water when all he had done was come in here and prove once more that he was nothing but an arrogant boy with dreams way too big for what little talent he had._

_Pathetic._

_He was merely waiting to be ejected from the office at this point, gaze dropping to his lap as he forced himself not to cry because really, he'd brought this upon himself._

_''Drink something, Minho.''_

_Minho scrambled to get a hold of the glass, avoiding looking at the man as the condescending tone hit his ears._

_He didn't deserve any better._

_''You have quite a few severe flaws, but if you're willing to put your arrogance aside and listen to what hyung tells you, I think you'd do great in the industry.''_

_For real? The man was still willing to help Minho even after learning how much of a piece of shit he was?_

_Even knowing how much of a lost cause he was?_

_Who did that?_

_''Minho'', the man's voice was suddenly much closer and when Minho looked up, he saw Mr. Hong standing beside him, hands on Minho's shoulders as he nodded towards the contract. ''Listen to what hyung tells you and sign. Hyung will help you. Hyung will shape you into the best version of yourself.''_

_There was some part of Minho, the smarter part, that knew he was being manipulated._

_No, that wasn't right._

_It **supposed** he was being manipulated, but the tiny voice was drowned out by Minho's yearning for a chance to prove himself, by his want to debut, by the prospect of help opening up right in front of him, by the fact that his dream was almost in his grasp._

_How could he refuse that?_

_''You'd be stupid if you didn't take this chance.''_

_The man rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder, the contact causing that tiny voice in his head to screech, knowing this was absolutely not how things should be progressing in a normal setting under normal circumstances._

_The glass in his hand shook dangerously, but he couldn't control his body anymore as something in his mind detached, leaving him as nothing more than a spectator._

_''Think about it. No one else would take you in anyway.''_

_He saw himself reaching out for the contract, triggering the voice again that was begging him not to do this, and his movement halted._

_This was wrong. This felt wrong._

_He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He couldn't._

_''You should be thankful I'm giving you this opportunity'', the man whispered, leaning in closer so Minho could feel his breath on the side of his neck._

_His breathing accelerated. The voice screeched._

_''Because no other company will.''_

_He figured, but he couldn't think. He couldn't think._

_He couldn't think anymore._

_He couldn't get his mind to catch up to the situation._

_''I'm really generous, aren't I?''_

_''Yes, hyung. Thank you.''_

_Even as the words spilled from his mouth without his consent, he didn't move. The man seemed to sense his hesitation, his patience starting to diminish as he grabbed Minho's shoulders harshly, yanking him off the chair and down to the floor._

_The glass of water slipped out of his grasp and shattered on the floor as Minho tried to break his fall with his hands, liquid soaking the carpet and shards scattering around him._

_Oh._

_He looked up, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened as Mr. Hong's angry face appeared in his field of view, glaring down at him as if he was just a worm waiting to be squished._

_''I don't know what's so fucking difficult about this, Minho'', he hissed, snatching the contract and pen from the table and dropping them in front of the boy on the floor. ''Sign this. Now.''_

_The shift from gentle to aggressive confused Minho and he was unable to get his body to move, instead staring at the contract with a blank expression._

_What the hell was going on?_

_There was another annoyed and impatient sigh as the man stepped closer to him and Minho tried to push himself up, but was stopped when suddenly, a heel was brought down hard into the back of his right hand._

_He couldn't help it._

_He screamed, collapsing back onto the ground and clawing at the man's leg with his left hand, looking to find flesh beneath his trousers, but not managing to do any damage at all._

_''My patience is running out, Minho.''_

_He ground his heel in deeper, harsher and Minho bit himself bloody trying not to let the tears fall as his cartilage gave a terrifying creak._

_He had never experienced this type of situation before and therefore he had no idea what to fucking **do** except fight for all he was worth and plead with this man to release him._

_It went against his pride, but he didn't have much of that left anyway and he'd rather suffer a broken ego than a broken hand._

_''Please stop! Please, you're going to break my hand!''_

_''Good.''_

_The pressure increased once more and at this point Minho was sure the man was almost standing on his hand as he desperately tugged at the limb that was held in place, unfortunately to no avail._

_He knew to expect the sudden snap of his bones -he couldn't even tell which ones- and the throbbing pain that followed after and he abruptly stopped struggling, scared he was going to further dislocate something if he didn't._

_''Hyung...''_

_His voice came out small, smaller than he would have liked, and from the scoff above him he could tell the man had noticed too as he finally released Minho's hand, leaning down to lock eyes with him, his gaze full of cold contempt that made the younger shiver._

_''Do yourself a favor and sign the goddamn contract before I break your legs too.''_

_Minho couldn't move._

_No matter how frantically he screamed at his muscles to do something, none of them wanted to obey him, his pulsing hand seemingly drowning out all commands._

_He supposed he started shivering at this point, tears sliding down his cheeks and his throat closing up as his body went into some sort of state between shock and panic, but he really couldn't tell._

_What was this situation? What was going on?_

_''Minho'', the voice from above came again, gentle again as fingers threaded through his messy hair. The gesture could have been comforting if the man had only put in a little more effort, but Minho felt like he was in no position to ask for any kindness. ''You're a good boy, aren't you?''_

_Minho stared straight ahead, tears still blinding him as his gaze hyperfocused on the wall opposite of him, taking in the glowing stars and their warm glow that reminded him of the fairy lights his mother always insisted on hanging up, pretty and sparkly little things that stretched along their walls all times of the year._

_The light almost filled out his entire vision, his being completely swallowed by it, drowning out his pain and his thoughts and his existence, and he felt himself relaxing._

_His body was reacting as if it was a separate entity, no longer listening to him, but Minho didn't mind._

_He was just along for the ride at this point and this was fine._

_''Hyung knows you are a good boy. A smart boy who listens to my orders very well.''_

_The man petted his head condescendingly, something that would have Minho scoffing and hissing any other day, but made him lean into the hand pathetically this time. He needed comfort._

_''Such a good boy.''_

_Something prodded at his lips and his body reacted on instinct, opening his mouth and swallowing the little pill without question in an attempt to ease the throbbing pain that still persisted in his hand._

_When the man spoke next, Minho could practically **hear** the smile in his voice._

_''Let's talk the contract over after you're feeling better, hm?''_

The star twinkled again and his memories were lost, slipping through his fingers like a piece of thread and dropping into the water of Han river to find their eternal rest in that black abyss.

Where they belonged.

Minho didn't want to have anything to do with them anymore, gladly tossing everything associated with his old life over the rail.

Photocards, torn up albums, stage outfits worth thousands of dollar that he had worn exactly _once_ , merchandise that had his stupid smiling face all over it, he had gotten rid of anything and everything he had found, but it hadn't sufficed.

It hadn't stopped the whispers in his head and the ghostly touches on his back and the phantom pain that resurfaced whenever his resolve was crumbling and he sat crying in his bathroom with the drugs he should have despised, should have flushed down the toilet, should have left back at the company just like he had left himself there.

Maybe things would have actually started going well for him if he had just left these little pills to the fire that had destroyed nearly the entire vocal floor of the company.

But he hadn't.

He had pillaged the medical cabinet, no ounce of shame or reflection left in his body to try and stop him from stuffing himself with the substance that distorted his vision to little more than a grainy picture, that swallowed all noises, even the voices in his head, that made his heart slow down so much that he wasn't aware of the pain anymore, that brought him as close to death as it could without actually killing him.

It was poison and medicine at the same time, temporary salvation for his mind and damaging relief for his body, but the side effects didn't faze him anymore.

They were _nothing_ next to the misery he had been put through.

In fact, as time went on, Minho found that the drugs weren't even strong enough to completely drown everything out anymore, forcing him to take more and more pills to accomodate for the lack of effect.

_''Minho, you need to stop.''_

He knew that.

He hated that he had become like this, he hated the kind of person the people at Starlight had made him into.

He hated himself.

So he had thrown himself over the rail of this bridge as well, in a feeble hope that he would be another person when he woke up. If he woke up.

The complete bliss he'd yearned for had never graced him and all he'd been left with was a mild case of pneumonia and the disappointment that he was still Lee Minho.

Lee Know.

God, how he hated that name.

He hated how that was his entire identity within the idol world, marketed with a pretty face and some nice abs, but really nothing more.

 _Just cheap eye candy_ , his manager had told him time and time again, a simple shrug reinforcing his statement, and there was just something so deflating about being passed off as visually attractive, but having no substance behind it.

That wasn't him.

The splashing water whispered its disagreement, a taunting melody wanting to convince him that being kind of good-looking was all he was capable of and as always with these types of thoughts, he found tears welling up in his eyes, having long since lost the strength to fight his own doubts off.

He tried blinking the tears away as the distinct sound of footsteps reached him, feeling like he already knew who was looking to keep him company on this freezing night.

Well, who else would actually go through the trouble to make sure Minho felt okay and safe for the time being?

Who else would be here to covince him not to off himself? Not to throw his living and breathing body over the rail and drown it in oblivion until he could start all over?

Because really, Minho didn't want to die. He just wanted to escape this life.

He wanted to discard this bruised and broken, constricting and suffocating shell that was so easily recognizable on the street because it was literally his entire persona.

It was a living prison, the cold hard walls steadily coming closer in an attempt to crush him, the bars outside of his window full of electricity, hurting him whenever he tried to reach out, and a 21-year old lock on the door preventing him from escaping.

But there had to be some sort of exit to get out.

And if there wasn't, it was nice to at least have someone next to him showing him that there was a reason not to leave his personal prison.

Because it didn't necessarily have to be a prison.

''You're here again?''

A sudden surge of warmth enveloped his upper body, the soft fabric of a blanket lightly chafing the exposed skin on his neck and despite his best efforts, Minho couldn't stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks, nor could he prevent the tiny sob that bubbled up from his throat.

The softness around him was gently adjusted so that it wrapped around him in a protective manner, warming his body and causing the coldness of the night to disappear as someone stepped next to him and leaned on the handrail as well.

From the corner of his eyes he saw pink strands fluttering in the wind, but that voice alone would have been enough for him to know and his heart skipped a beat as he reached out, yearning for comforting contact.

''Hyung.''

There was a hum from the male next to him, but no other verbal confirmation, and Minho felt it wasn't needed as his frozen fingers hesitantly found their warm counterpart, latching onto them as if they were his lifeline.

His gaze never shifted away from the quiet water, even as he felt his hyung's gaze settling on him, probably looking straight into his very soul and all the miserable thoughts that had sprouted in his mind like weeds.

''You thought about it again, didn't you?''

Minho smiled bitterly and nodded, unable to lie to the person who probably knew him like the back of his hand by now.

The person he put his trust in the most because it was thanks to him that he was even standing here.

''Yeah.''

He understood better than anyone else where Minho's mind currently was, so he kept quiet, seeing no need for exchanging words that had been spoken before, as he took the younger's cold hand and squeezed reassuringly.

The touch was familiar, gentle, and without realizing it, Minho eased up, scooting closer to his source of comfort until their shoulders were lightly touching, but still not turning to face him.

He knew the moment he did, he would see regret in those dark brown eyes and he really wasn't ready for that talk yet. Not yet and not ever.

He didn't blame his hyung for anything that had happened, if anything he was thankful to him for finally working out and initiating an escape plan when Minho had been too much of a coward to do so, afraid of losing the one constant in his life.

And even though it had been an abusive and manipulating constant, it had been a constant nonetheless, something he could cling to when he was unsure of himself and his life and his choices.

Old patterns. They were horrible.

They caught him in their web and messed with his head until he was tied up so thoroughly that he couldn't think clearly anymore.

Han river steadily gurgled under him and he reached out again to touch the handrail that protected him from the drop down into the chilling water.

He hated heights.

His instinct pushed him to back away from it, but instead he let his thumb swipe across the metal, brushing aside some snow to reveal one of the many messages imprinted on the handrail in an attempt to stop people from committing suicide.

_The wind is really nice._

He remembered the phrase well, for it had been the last thing his frantic mind had recalled as he had climbed over the rail that fateful night, seeing the inviting darkness of the water and hearing it roaring under him, demanding a sacrifice to rip apart in the strong currents.

So he had supplied one.

_''What the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to give me a heart attack?''_

_His hyung was sitting at the side of his bed, face set in a mix of anger and a tremendous amount of frustration and worry._

_He was holding Minho's hand, brushing over it in a comforting gesture and even though his fingers were really cold, it felt nice._

_He was wet all over, clothes sticking to his body and hair positively dripping with water, but he had refused to leave Minho's side ever since the younger had regained consciousness, claiming that he needed to be there for him._

_''Hyung, you should really change into dry clothing, you'll get sick. You need to take care of yourself.''_

_His hyung scoffed, voice full of barely repressed emotion._

_'' **I** have to take care of myself? You have no business telling me that after I had to pull your ass from the river.''_

_Minho gave him a weak smile, watching tears pooling in his eyes as he lightly squeezed his hand._

_The one that was less injured. Less ruined. Less fucked up._

_Though that was just pretend because really, everything about him was fucked up._

_Still, it was nice that someone cared._

_''Sorry. I won't do it again.''_

_His voice was hoarse and unstable, but he didn't mind and neither did his hyung._

_''Fucking idiot, of course you won't. I won't let you.''_

_His voice almost broke halfway through and Minho felt guilty, yet he couldn't bring himself to do anything else other than blankly stare at his hyung and blink the tears away that were starting to well up in his eyes._

_''Hyung, I-''_

_''Come here.''_

_It was probably the first time he got to feel his hyung's arms around him in such a tight and protective manner and it took a second for him to react and place his hand on the other male's back as well._

_His clothes were soaked in the matter of seconds, but it didn't matter as he leaned into the hug, that strong steady heartbeat synching up with his own and warm puffs of air hitting his neck from his hyung's shaky exhales._

_He wouldn't trade that feeling for anything in the world._

He blinked the memory away, but his eyes burned with unshed tears anyway as he stared at the message.

_The wind is really nice._

''It really is though, right?'', his hyung commented and Minho's gaze trailed to his face at last, soft features seeming to glow as he gestured down the road, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air between them.

Minho closed his eyes in contemplation, letting the wind caress his face and carry the familiar smell of coffee and late night cake to him from the memories that were buried in the river.

''Can we get coffee?'', he heard himself asking, opening his eyes again when a light chuckle followed his question to revel in the beauty that was his hyung's smile.

The corners of his lips tugged upwards almost instinctively and in that particular moment, with those sparkling eyes and the calm, soothing presence in front of him, there could not have been a more enjoyable prison for him.

In that moment, his prison was a paradise.

''Yes Minho, coffee sounds nice.''

As soon as they both turned away from the bridge, Minho wrapped in a blanket and his hyung with a beanie and a fluffy jacket, time seemed to stop around them.

The scenery was frozen, all sounds from the river fading out and the wind halting its journey to give the two boys their private space.

And that's what it was.

A moment free of time, space, reason and logic, a moment lost to their dreams and hopes and just everything that was _them_ as they strolled towards the coffee shop that had become their home away from home, their safe space to take a rest from the draining idol life and everything that came with it.

_The bell above the door gave a soft ring as they stepped over the threshold and Minho curiously looked around the tiny, yet comfortable room._

_It seemed less like a cafe and more like a lounge with the couches that were placed against the walls, pillows spread out everywhere and dim yellow lights illuminating the space, a welcome change to the bright spotlights he was normally being subjected to._

_The walls were painted a dark purple, adding to the cozy atmosphere, and as Minho examined them closer, he could see many different pictures of people adorning the walls, their signatures and messages written on the frames as a whisper from the past._

_His hyung pulled him towards one of the couches on the left side, settling on it with a blissful sigh._

_''This is my favorite place'', he beamed, reaching for a remote on the coffee table. ''What do you want to listen to, Min?''_

_The affectionate nickname had Minho almost melting and he sat down as well, surprised by the soft cushions that seemed to absorb all his stress and cool his wounds at the same time._

_It felt like taking a hot shower in the deepest winter, like walking on a warm sandy beach in the evening, like listening to his cats' purring as they rested on his chest._

_It was the purest type of comfort to exist out there in this world, almost as pure as his hyung's laugh as he noticed Minho relaxing on the couch._

_''Feels good?''_

_''Amazing'', he agreed, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the other male's side, barely registering the sound of his own voice filtering through the speakers at the ceiling._

_Of course he knew the song. It was one of his favorites._

_Intro: Ray of sunlight._

_''Afterglow is a beautiful album. You've really gone and done it.''_

_Fingers combed through Minho's hair in a loving gesture, slow and consistent strokes_ _wanting to lull him off to the warm embrace of sleep, but he didn't give into it, intent on enjoying this tranquil moment for as long as possible._

_The sound of footsteps had him groggily open his eyes again, his gaze focusing on a boy with handsome features and pink hair as well, its shade almost exactly his hyung's._

_''Wow hyung, who's your friend?''_

_Minho made a half-hearted attempt to answer before he realized that he couldn't be bothered, instead leaving this conversation to his hyung._

_''Lee Minho.''_

_He hesitated briefly, giving Minho's hand a questioning tap as if asking him if he could reveal his stage name._

_Frankly, Minho didn't care, so he nodded his permission._

_He was way too comfortable to feel wary._

_''Lee Know.''_

_The boy's face lightened up in joy and he extended his hand to Minho who took it after a moment's hesitation, not wanting to come across as rude._

_''I'm delighted to see a new idol in my cafe. I'm Joshua, but everyone calls me Josh.''_

_His hyung's lips pulled into a cheeky grin. ''Sure Shua, keep telling yourself that.''_

_Annoyance flashed across Joshua's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared when Minho addressed him, still leaning heavily into the male next to him who didn't seem to mind and just went through the menu of drinks._

_''A new idol?'', he repeated Joshua's wording. ''Is this a meeting place for idols?''_

_''Pretty much.''_

_The boy gestured at the wall behind him and Minho straightened himself up and turned around to properly look at it for the first time._

_And low and behold, the pictures on that wall were all indeed idols holding their favorite drink while relaxing on one of the couches, faces content and at ease like there was no place they'd rather be at the moment._

_He saw BTS' Suga, gummy smile on full display and Caramel Macchiato in his hand, his iconic phrase 'Min Suga, genius' scribbled on his photo frame._

_The picture above Suga's was of Jooheon from Monsta X with a cappucino and the phrase 'Yes or no, don't think too much'._

_Yet another one was of Robin from World Klass with an Iced Coconutmilk Latte and the quote 'Don't limit your challenges, challenge your limits'._

_There were just so many._

_His eyes kept wandering over the wall, catching familiar faces here and inspiring quotes there until they finally settled on locks of pink hair and a White Chocolate Mocha._

_His hyung._

_''This is Chocolat Blanc, the insider idol cafe'', Joshua explained proudly and Minho turned to face him, immediately caught off guard by the camera that had appeared in the boy's hands out of nowhere._

_''Can I take a shot for the wall?''_

_His heart was up to his throat in the matter of two seconds and he let out a stuttering breath as he spotted the blinking red light, pressing himself back into the couch in an attempt to get as far away from it as possible._

_His hyung's head shot up in alarm as he felt Minho tensing beside him and when his gaze fell on the camera, he realized what was happening._

_He was about to open his mouth and answer negatively for the younger when Minho exhaled shakily, his hand searching for his hyung's to have something to hold onto._

_He couldn't keep living like this._

_If he wanted to get past everything that had happened at his company, he had to tackle his fear right now._

_''Yes, that's alright.''_

_''Are you sure, Min?''_

_He was rubbing soothing circles on Minho's hand like he always did when he was on the verge of a breakdown and as always, it helped tremendously in calming his heart down and reducing his stress to a manageable level._

_Minho forced a smile on his face and nodded at Joshua, making sure not to directly look at the blinking light or the camera in general._

_''Let's do it.''_

Joshua was behind the counter when they arrived, leisurely counting the money in his cash register, yet he looked up for a short moment as they stepped into the cafe, flicking his hand in casual greeting before going back to sorting the bills.

''The same as always?''

''Same as always'', Minho confirmed, already heading towards their usual space on the left while his hyung remained in front of the counter to catch Joshua up to the latest news and chat a little with him.

During one of their visits, the other male had come to sit next to them, making a sleepy Minho scoot a little to the side in order to make space for him, and they'd talked more about themselves over some Honey Citrus Mint Tea, discovering that they actually clicked quite well.

Minho liked Joshua.

He was funny and sweet and yet another calming presence that was comfortable to be around.

He played with Minho's hair whenever the younger was too invested in a conversation with his hyung to really care what he was doing, repeatedly exclaiming that the strands were the softest and most satisfying thing he had ever felt.

He knew exactly how Minho liked his Iced Caramel Macchiato, always making sure to add an extra spoon of caramel to make it even sweeter than it already was, the taste like heaven on Minho's tongue despite his hyung's playful jabs at it ruining his teeth.

And most importantly, Joshua let him sleep when he passed out on the couch from exhaustion, allowing him and his hyung to stay in their safe space for however long they wished even if he should be closing the cafe.

Minho liked him.

And maybe he felt a bit bad for the guy too.

Originally, before Joshua had opened this cafe, he had wanted to become a doctor.

He had spent tremendous amounts of money on his dream, choosing the best medical school around and funding his education from the money he had made as a waiter.

And it had landed him a great job at Seoul's busiest hospital too, with the best chances of saving and improving plenty of lives, but when he had messed up during an important surgery one day, resulting in the death of a patient, he had been discharged right away, forcing him to look for a new career.

All that time and patience spent on his career and it had led nowhere because the media would never let him live it down how it had been his fault that a patient had died.

Of course things like these happened, even to the most experienced of doctors, but at the time, he had been fresh meat for the public, a rookie who was allowed in a critical surgery, and who would society be if they didn't tear into him?

After he had gotten kicked out, he had been unsure of what he should do, but had then found his calling after watching a documentary about the mistreatment of idols, deciding to build a cafe for all those idols who just needed a safe place to enjoy their coffee without getting jumped by paparazzi and crazy fans.

He still helped out at the hospital every now and then, but his main interest was making sure to heal the people whose companies had robbed them of all they originally wanted to achieve.

How ironic.

Minho found himself thinking back about Starlight and he scoffed, cradling his right hand to his chest as if to protect it from all the abuse it had already suffered.

It was always the first spot they went after when he disobeyed them or failed to perfect that dance before the ridiculous deadline they had set for him or when he was too clumsy on set or his voice was hoarse from the continued strain... the list went on and on.

If he were to look, he wouldn't see any indication of violence on his skin, not with makeup and other medical supplies at the ready, but that didn't change the pain he had endured every time they had broken one of his fingers.

He thought after about three or four comebacks he would have gotten used to it, gotten used to always doing some little trivial thing that warranted them to bend his fingers until they snapped or bring heavy items down on the digits, but somehow he had always burst into tears nonetheless.

He guessed there was no way to get used to having his bones shattered.

Minho shuddered, successfully drawing Joshua's attention who shot him a worried glance, holding up his hand to signal for his hyung to stop talking for a second.

''Everything alright, Min?''

The nickname rolled off his tongue like honey, just like it always did with his hyung, and Minho nodded hesitantly, forcing a small smile onto his face as he made his way over to the couch, painfully aware of the gaze that lingered on him.

He was okay. He was.

He reached for the remote to turn the music on, not really surprised when the sad tune of _Outro: Eclipse/Totality_ reached his ears.

Afterglow. The last album his fans would ever get to hear from him.

From Lee Know.

It had been released when he'd already been on the run, just a cheap tactic to keep his fans occupied while they went to hunt him down, but of course it hadn't worked for long.

Not after what had happened at the company during his escape.

His hyung laughed, probably a response to whatever funny story Joshua had told him, and as Minho looked, he met the other male's gaze that never seemed to have left him.

He was still concerned, so the younger smiled again, a lot more sincere this time, and watched how stars seemed to appear in Joshua's eyes.

It wasn't a secret that the older maybe had a tiny thing for him, but Minho was used to this anyway, so it didn't faze him anymore.

...was what he would have liked to say.

In actuality, his cheeks still seemed to catch on fire whenever someone did as much as simply compliment him or look at him fondly.

This time was no different and Minho turned his head to break eye contact before he could get embarrassed, relaxing with his hyung's blanket draped over him as he waited for his Iced Caramel Macchiato, his thoughts drifting off to the bridge he had been on before.

Immediately, the cold feeling retuned to his fingertips, spreading through the rest of his body as he attempted to get his mind focused on something else, but it was like a strong pull had taken hold of him, dragging him back to Han river and the memories he had discarded in there.

They were crawling their way up from the dark water, calling out to him, cursing him for leaving them like this, and for a brief second, he thought he had a chance of outrunning them.

For a brief second, he thought his hyung would come and chase them away into the depths where they belonged before sitting down next to Minho and handing him his drink.

But that was just pretend.

Because he wasn't in the cafe and his hyung wasn't at the counter, chatting his time away with Joshua.

His bubble popped and he was back at the bridge, shivering as his hands felt for a blanket that had never been there in the first place.

His vision was teary and blurry and it took some time for it to focus on the orange glow he could make out at the horizon, a new dawn slowly breaking on as he continued to watch.

People were rushing past him in hurry, no doubt on their way to work or school, and their chattering mixed with the splashing of the river, as well as the unholy screech of his memories as they climbed up the rail.

Minho closed his eyes in disappointment and exhaled shakily, his hyung's touch still lingering on his skin even if he knew it wasn't possible.

It was frustrating.

His hyung normally always sensed when Minho was in one of these moods, when he really needed someone to come and just spend some time and warmth and reassurance that he wasn't alone in this world, so the fact that he hadn't turned up this time left a bitter taste in his mouth, reviving all the worries and doubts they had managed to forcefully suppress together.

He didn't want to, but his hand somehow found the pocket of his jacket, fishing around for one of the pills that made everything better and worse even as his hyung's voice echoed in his head not to fall prey to his urges again.

He shouldn't.

He had no idea what those substances were doing to his body, nor did he know if he had the strength to catch himself if he drifted into addiction again, especially if he didn't have his hyung with him.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

_''But you want to, right?''_

Minho flinched as a harsh exhale hit the back of his neck, but refrained from spinning around, for he knew the second he did the illusion would be gone anyway.

There was nothing to do except not acknowledge its existence and hope that it would leave him alone.

_''Come on, hyung's got you.''_

Hyung. The word that normally held only purity and admiration was embittered by the man's foul tone and it made his face scrunch up, but his resolve was unbreakable as his eyes searched the horizon for something to focus on.

As if there was some cursed spell directing his gaze, he ended up looking at the very thing he was running from and clammy hands slowly closed around his neck, steadily cutting off his air supply.

He didn't make a sound, even as his reflex to sputter and choke was undeniably strong, and stubbornly stared straight ahead, willing Starlight to disintegrate into air.

_''Hyung knows you are a good boy, so open up.''_

Something poked at his lips, the action in and of itself so familiar, so mechanical that he didn't even hesitate opening his mouth and letting the pill slip into his mouth.

It sat heavy on his tongue, almost begging to be swallowed while the bitter taste already started to overwhelm Minho, but he knew he shouldn't.

He shouldn't. He--...

_''Such a good boy.''_

The pressure on his neck gave way to a burning sensation that absolutely shouldn't have comforted him as much as it did and for a second, he did feel the urge to gag, but he suppressed it. He had plenty of experience in that.

It would take a few minutes for the drug to take effect and he used the remaining time he had to simply concentrate on his breathing, trying to keep it at a steady rhythm, so he wouldn't end up making himself pass out again.

Because this time, there wasn't anyone who would catch him.

In more ways than one.

_''I got you.''_

_It was pathetic how Minho hadn't even noticed that his legs were giving out, that his breathing had turned way too shallow, that his heart had difficulties making an effort to beat, until his hyung had already caught him, slowly lowering him down on a nearby bench while he whispered words of reassurance to him._

_''I'm here. Just focus on breathing, Min. Just breathe. I got you.''_

_Minho nodded miserably, clinging onto him for all he was worth and trying to get his breathing under control, his distorted vision not really helping with that task._

_There was a strong pounding in his head, probably some very late side effect of the pill he had swallowed that morning, but at least his hand wasn't hurting anymore, the ugly bruises tattooed on his skin a bit more bearable to look at even if his hand was still pretty much numb even after an entire day of putting repeated strain on it._

_It was honestly quite impressive._

_His hyung adjusted his grip, one hand sliding into the pocket of Minho's jacket and before he could really register it, the older was holding the package of pills in his hand that Minho always got for free from the medical staff at Starlight._

_''Really?''_

_He felt shame wash over him at the accusing tone, deciding to bury his head into his hyung's shoulder so he wouldn't be subjected to his judging gaze._

_He knew damn well how hard the both of them had worked on slowly getting Minho's body used to functioning without the substance and he knew how many weeks his little relapse was throwing them back, but it simply wasn't that easy._

_''My hand was hurting'', he mumbled pitifully, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes and his hyung sighed, running a comforting hand through his hair._

_''I know. And I still think we should get you proper treatment.''_

_''No, please don't.''_

_His voice broke halfway through._

_That new vocal technic really wasn't doing him any good, but it wasn't his place to say anything. It was never._

_''Minho, why don't you let me help?''_

_His hyung was upset, something that made Minho's heart contract with a numbing ache, but no matter how much he wanted to spill everything he had been told by management, the threats that had been made regarding him confiding in other idols were very much real and very much aimed at his hyung._

_Like hell would he let these people hurt him just because he was too stupid to follow a simple order._

_''There's no way to help.''_

_He could almost feel his hyung's disappointment at such a dismissive answer, but before the older could press any further, he quickly changed topics in the hopes that his hyung would understand that he didn't want to talk about it._

_''The stars are pretty today, aren't they?''_

_It took a few seconds for his hyung to reply and when Minho turned his head to look at what was taking so long, he noticed his hyung's gaze scanning over the nightsky as if he was looking for something in particular._

_Maybe Minho's joy. His hope. His will to live._

_As if he had read his thoughts, his hyung suddenly glanced back at him and Minho smiled sheepishly, hoping it wasn't too obvious what had just ran through his head._

_''The wind is really nice as well.''_

_But of course he had no such luck._

_He nodded, proceeding to melt into the older, enjoying the serene atmosphere and the warmth radiating off him while Han river was splashing along beneath them._

_This was by far Minho's favorite spot to hang out with him, representing both an ending and a beginning._

_The end of sorrow, the beginning of happiness and the desire for eternity._

_At least that was what he liked to tell himself._

_''How is Han?'', his hyung suddenly asked, no doubt referring to the hashtag that had been spreading around Twitter like a wildfire after Han, his fanbase, had noticed Minho being visibly in pain during an interview._

_'#LeeKnowIsSuffering.'_

_They weren't wrong about him suffering, not at all, but Minho wished they would shut their mouths and not make things worse for him._

_He didn't blame them for any of this, but unknowingly, they still contributed a fair amount to his pain when they bought his merchandise or clicked on one of his music videos._

_They weren't the ones cutting patterns into his skin or beating him into unconsciousness or pushing him to the brink of exhaustion only to drag him off to that room and as much as he absolutely adored Han and their sweet little gestures, he caught himself being resentful towards them one too many times._

_Because as his fans, they gave him his existence as much as they took it away from him._

_''They... they worry. About me.''_

_There was a thoughtful hum from his hyung as he squeezed Minho, eyes sparkling with an unspoken fondness._

_It was the same kind he saw whenever he was lying on his hyung's lap, playing with strands of his hair while he sang Minho's favorite song._

_It was the same kind he saw whenever his hyung would take time out of his busy day to go over some vocals with him again, the same kind he saw whenever Minho was overly excited about something and was seeking reassurance from him._

_''Don't blame them. They really care about you and I know you care just as much about them. There's a reason you like this river so much.''_

_Minho couldn't help but to let a small smile slip onto his face, marveling how his hyung managed to understand him so well._

_He always knew how Minho was feeling, sometimes even better than the younger himself, he always knew what he needed to hear in any given situation and he always knew what thoughts and feelings were rushing through that head of his, ready to stop them if they entered dangerous territory._

_It was amazing._

_''You really get me...''_

_''...Kihyun hyung.''_


	9. [Queen's Black Knight]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter overdue? Yes
> 
> Did I have it sitting in my notes since March? Yes

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**''BLACK'' has gained initiative for the time being.** _

Breakfast was at seven.

Always had been, always would be.

It was an unspoken rule between the three of them, a morning ritual established through the routine Jeongin loved so much and any and all deviation from that ritual was frowned upon, scorned by the younger as if it tarnished some religious tradition.

Jeongin prided himself on being efficient, almost obsessively so, and as such it was no surprise that he always managed to be awake before the first rays of dawn even appeared in the sky, working in his study on new designs for his dolls or summing up their earnings or catching himself up on the latest news so he could adjust his strategy accordingly.

He always put so much effort into everything he did, even – or especially – when the world still lay in deep slumber, blissfully unaware of the plans that were being made for it, and it made Chan's heart ache with fondness, realizing both Jeongin and him had come a long way from where they had started.

In the matter of a few years they had both somehow managed to flip their lives entirely around so that they were no longer the pieces on the board, but the players instead, their fates entangled from the very beginning without either of them knowing, giving them a deeper understanding of each other beyond the usual means.

They had both looked at the same walls, the same cracks, the same people, the same _life._ They had both shared the same underlying dissatisfaction, the all-consuming rage, the excruciating pain, everything that was slowly building up into a frustrating mess of feelings and urges, drowning out what had been left of his rational reasoning.

Chan had always been violent.

There was really no sugarcoating it, he had regularly picked fights back in Australia, even when being repeatedly told to stand down, because he didn't take orders from no one.

He had never been the classic school bully, had never pressured kids for their lunch money, had never gone out of his way to insult them every time he saw them and had never beaten them up because they were nerds or anything stupid alike.

He had preferred picking his victims at random and terrorizing them at the most unlikely of times and without rhyme or reason, both mentally and physically, earning him the title of most terrifying kid at school.

And rightfully so.

He had been rebellious, stubborn and defiant, just an overall hassle to deal with.

One of the problematic kids, one that could be controlled by neither parents nor teachers.

But there had been hope for him.

He was sure if everything had gone how it was supposed to back then, he wouldn't be like this right now.

He'd be a capable and functioning adult producing music for a living or even studying Veterinary Technology because there had been a time when he'd genuinely taken interest into animals, wanting to make the world just a little better by tending to those who needed it the most.

He'd be in a healthy relationship with his significant other, travelling around the world whenever the both of them had some time off and Chan would be showing them all the wonders of the world.

He'd write songs for his sweetheart, talk to them all night long if they were upset, take them out on simple yet effective dates, kiss them under the moonlight or in the candlelight of his darkened room and show them just how much they meant to him.

If everything had gone how it was supposed to, he'd be such a person now.

No.

 _Christopher_ would be such a person.

But he hadn't been around since the accident.

Because he was dead.

Chan had watched him drown in that endless and hungry void that had swallowed him up, refusing to release him even as he had struggled to escape.

He had flailed around helplessly, trying to get a grip on something, _anything_ , and while it could have been so easy to reach out a hand and help the poor soul that was crying and begging for someone to save him, Chan had remained where he was, watching with indifference how easily a life could be blown out.

Even if it was his own life.

The next time he had opened his eyes, he hadn't known where he was.

He had felt suspiciously light, like he was floating in a haze, but icy fingers had taken a hold of him, slowly helping him to sit up so he could look around the room he was in.

Chan remembered crying, remembered being scared despite his confused state, remembered being gently shushed by whoever had been next to him, but the most vivid detail he remembered was of a boy sitting at the wall opposite to him, black hair messy and falling into his eyes as he had stared at the floor.

His ragged breathing had been the only sound capable of reaching Chan's ears, even if there had been plenty of people fussing around them, and even back then, he had realized that the boy had been sick. Very sick.

_''Where the hell am I?''_

The question had echoed in the hopeless space in the late hours of the night, the people all gone and going about their business, leaving behind a dying boy and a dead one as well.

_''Am I dead?''_

A humorless laugh. One that haunted Chan to this day.

It haunted him almost as much as the image of that room with the door torn out of its hinges, the ripped wallpaper and the splatters of blood on the floor as heavy breathing had disrupted the silence.

The smell of blood had been overwhelming, a sickly sweet and intense sensation that had invaded his nose and made him nauseous as he'd stumbled towards the door, leaving behind a crime scene meant to never be discovered.

Chan had always been violent.

He had never been able to get rid off his aggressive tendencies, though that was partly due to his own negligence and partly due to the fact that he really didn't want to discard this side of himself anymore.

It was useful in the business and over time, the aggression had morphed into a playful twistedness, the likes of which amused him greatly.

It was less about the killing for him, but instead more about savoring every moment, drawing out his victims' misery as much as possible so he could get the maximum amount of enjoyment out of it.

Mark had repeatedly expressed that he shared Chan's opinion and it was such a comfortable feeling having someone he could talk to freely and without any boundaries.

Mark in general really got him, really understood him to a similar extent as Jeongin, probably because he had the same role as Chan, the role of the knight, and the two of them could spend hours idly chatting their time away in Mark's gallery, going through the many photos he had taken and discussing why blood was so pretty and which foods were better with a sprinkle of it.

It was no secret that Chan had at one point poured a teeny tiny amount of blood over some pancakes he had made, but that had been meant as a one time thing because the taste hadn't been as mindblowing as he had believed it would be.

Still, you never know unless you try.

Recently, he had been thinking of mixing some blood into the chocolate sauce he always ate with his pancakes, simply to try and see if that changed anything, but for today, he had settled on scrambled eggs for breakfast.

Normally, he'd whip up something more extraordinary for breakfast, knowing it was the only meal all of them ate together, but he was kinda short on time today because he'd gotten caught up in reading the latest news online, musing about the panic spreading through the kpop community as yet another idol had disappeared off the face of the earth.

_Starship Entertainment confirms disappearance of Yoo Kihyun._

Man, the media was slow.

Chan had ticked Kihyun off his to-do list seemingly ages ago, but the public had only now caught up to that, either because they were stupid and way too ignorant or because Starship had actively hid that information from them until now to avoid the inevitable panic afterwards.

They were playing right into Jeongin's hands, it almost wasn't fun anymore.

Another quite interesting headline had been something else though, something a bit more hidden inside the newspaper, right beneath the weather report as if it was no big deal.

_Lee Chan gone missing from home after accusations of being involved in Yoo Kihyun's kidnapping._

Jisung had done a good job on this one despite failing to grab the file.

The little series of pictures, videos and gifs he had imported into the university's database really left nothing to the imagination, especially with how carefully constructed the supposed evidence was.

Chan was well aware of the rumors involving Dino participating in human trafficking, after all he'd been the one to make them spread around the students in the first place with the help of a reliable informant.

But of course, the rumors had needed substance to them eventually which was why Jisung had given them exactly that.

All of it was made up, just some photos with a filter and constructed videos as far as the eye could see, but the sheer mass of it was enough to shoot down any doubts people could have about the evidence being fake.

And now Dino was officially on the run.

Not his smartest move since it only gave people more reason to believe the lies stacked up against him, but Chan couldn't complain. It made his job of capturing the boy way easier.

As soon as one of their scouts spotted him somewhere around the city, it was a free capture, and until then, he could kick back, knowing he had worked through most of his jobs for now.

His scrambled eggs were almost ready to be served, so after a quick glance at the clock and realizing how late it was, Chan turned the stove off, grabbed his key for the elevator and made his way to the second floor to rouse the others, as was his self-imposed duty.

Jeongin's bedroom door was first, but upon knocking and not getting an answer except for some shuffling around on the floor, most definitely from Jeongin's doll, he tried the study from where he received a ''I'm coming, I'm coming''.

Mark was next and once again, there was no answer, neither from his bedroom nor from the gallery, so Chan whipped out his phone and typed in his number.

He did faintly remember Mark saying something about being over at Jeju for some deliveries, but even then, he should have been back by now unless something had gotten in the way.

It rang once, then twice, and halfway through the third ring, Mark picked up, voice sounding hoarse as if he'd only just woken up.

''Yeah, what's up, Chan?''

Chan almost felt bad for disturbing his peaceful sleep, after all, Mark really needed it after that job from last week that had him flying to Moscow for a delivery only to get informed that the person he was supposed to deliver to had moved to Malaysia as a refugee.

Unlucky him there hadn't been any flights from Moscow to Malaysia at the time, so he had returned to Korea first and gotten another flight.

All in all the delivery had probably taken the better part of two days, with all the string pulling and concealing he had to do, meaning he had been way behind schedule afterwards and only recently managed to catch up again by skipping lots of sleep.

Mad respect to the guy for even catching up at all.

''Are you still out?'', he asked and a confirmative hum came from the elder as he moved around in his bed, the rustling of sheets giving it away.

''Why, do you miss me?''

Chan almost snorted at the stupid question.

''Of course I do! How do you expect me to take care of the kids alone without my big brother?''

There was a light chuckle at the other end and some more noise, this time stemming from papers being sorted.

Mark's folder.

It was a risky thing to carry around, especially if authorities were to find the pictures of dead bodies, copious amounts of blood and _other stuff_ inside of it, but if there was anyone who would be able to hide the folder's content from prying eyes, whether with gentle persuasion or aggressive threats, it was Mark.

''Good point. By the way, convenient that you called me, I almost forgot to tell you that we got another job.''

''I don't even want to hear about it if it's another idol.''

''Too bad for you, it's an idol.''

Chan sighed in frustration, his free hand running through his hair and tearing at his bleached strands in an attempt to contain the flaring anger welling up inside his chest.

There were very few words out there that could describe his loathing towards idols on an adequate scale, but to quickly gloss over the facts – he despised them. A lot.

So much in fact that the last idol he had crossed had gotten his fingers cut off one by one with a pocket knife.

It hadn't been planned by any means, he had just sort of run into the idol in Incheon after he had been on his way back from delivering another idol, a feisty little shit who had bitten him, to their client, some guy with a stunning smile and a medical degree.

He could only guess what had happened to his delivery.

Anyway, after the exchange his mood had been at an all-time low, so when that idol had walked past him on the street, chatting obnoxiously loud with someone on the phone about some dance routine, Chan hadn't been able to hold himself back.

He had taken one look around to assure himself that nobody was around, courtesy to it being well past eleven on a work day, before harshly gripping the boy's arm and pulling him into a side street where the lights weren't as prominent.

He had thrown him to the ground with ease, pinning him down with his body weight and repeatedly bashing the boy's head into the concrete of the ground a couple of times to disorient him.

He must have been about Jisung's age, light brown hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and hazel eyes searching Chan's face, probably hoping to burn his features into his mind.

But he hadn't made a sound at first, not when Chan had pulled out his trusty pocket knife and not when he had let it rest heavily on the base of the boy's index finger, almost feeling the pulsing blood beneath the warm skin before he had pressed down, the movement as naturally as cutting pork beef or any other type of meat.

One well-executed chop and there it had been, a sad severed index finger lying beside the idol's trembling hand, blood spurting out of the fleshy stump and drawing the first pattern into the stone ground.

And still, the boy hadn't responded.

If he hadn't known any better, he would have guessed the boy was some masochist who got off on the pain of having his own finger chopped off, but that had flown out of the window the moment his eyes had cleared and he had become aware of just what was happening, an unsure flicker of his gaze towards his hand confirming his fears and sending him into panic.

It had been a messy and weird affair after that, not to mention _loud_ as the boy's screams had echoed in the alley relentlessly, but at the same time it had felt so incredibly good and relieving to finally be able to take his frustration out on one of the individuals that drove him mad.

He had left the idol begging for death, crying, trembling and heaving for air as he had cradled the rest of his bloodied hand to his chest, obviously willing himself not to look at the two digits that were barely hanging off it or the three that lay discarded on the ground.

Chan had felt better though and that was all that had mattered as he had picked the boy's phone up from the ground, broken cries of ''Jeno! Jeno!!'' reaching his ears.

Jeno. From NCT Dream or whatever.

It didn't matter much to him.

One idol less was one idol less, no matter if it was the right one or not.

He'd find the little shit eventually and until then, he'd just clean the industry up a bit by getting rid of people like Jeno.

The idol had actually survived this encounter and the last Chan had heard about him was that he was still undergoing trauma therapy, but as far as he was concerned, Jeno would never perform again and that was enough to satisfy him.

Sure, cutting off fingers wasn't the worst thing he could have done, he was certain there were a lot more satisfying ways to completely demolish that pretty body, but in that particular moment, with the blood gushing out and the knife slicing through flesh until it met a bone, struggling for merely a second before nature's anatomy had to succumb to hard steel, it had been perfect.

Disgusting and revolting in some way, but he had always been able to look past the grossest aspects of his occupation anyway.

''I know you don't like them, but a job is a job.''

His tone was reassuring, meant to calm Chan down before he riled himself up by talking about idols and Chan couldn't be more thankful to Mark for keeping his temper contained in moments like these.

He took a few deep breaths and massaged his temples to get rid of the stinging pain behind his right eye before he was able to ask for the details he needed, even if he really didn't want to spend his morning thinking about some idol.

''Name, entertainment, status?''

''Stage name Lee Know, Starlight Entertainment, runaway idol.''

Runaway idol?

Chan made a mental note of that in his head, but decided against pushing for information right now because firstly, he didn't care and secondly, he really didn't care.

He'd find out everything about this guy through either his or Jisung's research anyway and from there it was just a matter of concluding where he had run off to and how they could best capture him.

Dealing with a runaway idol wasn't anything special, it wasn't anything they hadn't done a million times before and therefore, it wasn't anything to even spend a single second of his day thinking about.

''When are you coming back?''

A short moment of comfortable silence passed between them as Mark checked his schedule and where he had to be next and Chan used that time to reflect on the past few weeks, realizing how long it had been since him and the older had spent some time off in the city.

He missed strolling down busy streets with him, trying on new fashion items in stores and judging each other's sex appeal, plopping down somewhere to have a meal or simply watching a dumb movie at the cinema just to complain about it later.

He really missed doing things with Mark, no matter what it was.

Hell, last time they had gone out together, they had ambushed some boy on the street, slit his throat and made lovely pictures for Mark's gallery before cutting the boy up and feeding his body to some stray cats. Fun times.

But Mark could make everything fun, so he wasn't surprised.

''Earliest I can manage is Tuesday'', came the deflated answer after a few seconds and Chan felt disappointment wash over him at the prospect of having to wait another four days.

Still, he could understand because he knew they always had to put the job first. Jeongin would kill them if they didn't.

''But'', Mark added, obviously sensing his disappointment and Chan piqued up in interest. ''I promise we'll spend some _quality time_ together once I get back. Deal?''

Quality time was Chan's favorite because it almost always included murder, coupled with a sweet snack afterwards, mostly expensive cakes or pastries.

When they'd killed that boy on the street, Mark had treated him to the best cheesecake he had ever eaten, so good that he had shared it with Jisung once he'd gotten home, the boy's smiling face as he had stuffed himself with the pastry still fresh on his mind.

''Will you bring your boyfriend too?''

''He's a busy man, so I guess not'', Mark replied and Chan could almost _hear_ Mark's shrug of nonchalance through the phone.

He knew that Chan was grasping at every opportunity he could get to talk to Jaebum again, the guy like another older brother for him that he respected immensely, both for his killing methods and his way with words.

''Besides, aren't you a little _too_ interested in my boyfriend?''

Chan scoffed playfully, knowing that Mark was just teasing him with his statement, trying to evoke a reaction because he knew _exactly_ that Chan preferred pure guys, fragile and pretty little things that broke like porcelain dolls under his touch.

Arranging the broken pieces of their soul as he wished was like putting together yet another track of soft whimpers and beautifully pained moans for his own listening pleasure.

''Shut up, you know I like the innocent types. Which, by the way, your boyfriend is not.''

''He isn't'', Mark confirmed, stifling a laugh at the mere thought of Jaebum being just another domestic boyfriend. ''But enough about that. Go wake up Jisung and get some food into the lot of you.''

Chan's gaze trailed to Jisung's door at the comment, the younger no doubt still asleep behind it, and his face scrunched up with an emotion he couldn't quite decipher. Not that it was important right now.

''Will do. And you go back to sleep now, okay?''

''Already halfway there.''

Some more rustling filtered through the phone and Chan concluded that Mark had settled into bed again and tucked himself back in, so he quickly said his goodbyes and hung up, just in time to see Jeongin stepping out of his study.

He seemed as if he had been awake for some time now, hair washed and styled and makeup already done, his black eye shadow looking gorgeous as always.

He held something in his hands, by the looks of it an album from some K-pop related artist and Chan looked at him in surprise before today's date suddenly hit him like a brick.

March 20th.

Damn, had it been another year already?

Time really flew.

He felt like it had only been yesterday when they'd all sat around a nicely decorated table in the hotel restaurant, cheering and celebrating Jisung's birthday, so for it to be March already was crazy.

Jeongin met his gaze, the anger and frustration in his eyes instantly drawing Chan's attention. Something must have ruined his carefully constructed plans, what else could he be this agitated about?

''Something the matter?'', he asked, causing Jeongin to make an exasperated gesture, almost dropping the album in the process before he rummaged through his jeans pocket in search for something.

Eventually, he pulled out a strip of paper and held it up so Chan could examine the one sentence that was written on it.

_Never turn your back until you know your enemy is dead._

It was weirdly eerie, especially considering that Chan couldn't immediately place the threat to a certain victim.

In most cases, nobody ever came back from where they were sold and even if they did, who was actually dumb enough to contact the organization that had made their life hell in the first place?

This person had a death wish.

''Who is it? Need me to take care of it?''

Jeongin huffed, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. ''I'll do it, save your energy. I think I have a hunch on who might be behind this and it's giving me a headache already.''

Chan truthfully had no idea who Jeongin was talking about, having long since lost the ability to properly distinguish every single job he got and every poor soul he plunged into the dephts of hell, but he nodded in acknowledgement anyway.

Silence reigned between them for a few seconds and Chan felt that the younger wanted to add something, but before he could actually do so, Jisung's door opened and the boy trudged out of his room, expression strangely melancholic as he passed them, not even bothering to say a greeting.

His gaze was fixed on the floor, so he didn't notice Jeongin's present as he heaved a sigh and proceeded to drag himself towards the elevator with the intention to get downstairs.

Chan didn't know what to make of Jisung on March 20th.

On every other day, he was an okay enough kid, even kind of endearing at times, but on the 20th of March, he just lost himself for a day and none of them understood exactly why.

Sure, it was Hyunjin's birthday, and sure, Hyunjin had been a really close friend to Jisung back at his old university, but then again, so had Changbin and as far as they were aware, Jisung had forgotten about him at this point.

It had taken some of Jeongin's tactics, plenty of made up lies and continuous repetition of said lies, all mixed with Jisung's already existing blame and anger at his best friend, but in the end, they had successfully managed to suppress the memory of Seo Changbin in Jisung's mind for good.

But somehow, that hadn't worked with Hyunjin and it irked Jeongin.

They had tried the exact same tactics, playing into Jisung's anger from being left alone and using it to get his mind to shut off everything associated with Hyunjin, but the results had been zero.

Jisung still thought about Hyunjin, still sympathized with him even after everything he had allegedly done, still clung to the hope that he would one day turn up again and they could be friends like they used to.

But they couldn't because Hyunjin was dead. And Jisung knew that.

He had actively participated in the investigation that had taken place about one and a half years ago, had asked around in the neighborhood, had regularly met up with Hyunjin's parents to go through the boy's old criminology notes in hopes of understanding his kidnappers' mentality, had tried to reconstruct the crime scene and go from there, but nothing had worked.

Of course not.

Jeongin knew how to hide his trails.

He also knew that the public wouldn't let a young boy's disappearance go without a conclusion.

So he had given them one, a dramatic and perfect ending to a gruesome horror story.

_''I don't think to this day they have found all of him.''_

Chan remembered the breakdown Jisung had when the police had found what had been left of Hyunjin.

He remembered the day the younger's world had come crashing down on him in all its details, right down to the cloudless and bright sky and the warm August sun that had almost succeeded in warming his heart as he'd taken a walk on a beach near Seoul with Jisung.

It had been quite the pretty sight, watching the sun bounce from wave to wave, but personally, Chan had found the body parts sprawled out on the sandy beach even prettier, dried red lines drawing patterns into the ground as if telling a story.

An enjoyable sight.

It had been such a shame that the police had destroyed it as soon as they had rushed to the scene, having been informed by the two boys that there was a corpse on the beach. Or, well, what was left of one.

_''It's him.''_

One of the policemen had said that after taking a blood sample, loud enough for Jisung to hear, and his morbid curiosity had pushed him to ask the one question Jeongin had already expected him to ask.

_''Who... who is it?''_

_''Hwang Hyunjin.''_

Chan wished he would have taken a picture of Jisung's face back then.

There had not been a single thing in the world up until that point that had amused him as greatly as seeing the revolted expression on the younger's face morphing into nausea, shock and grief all at once as he had struggled to keep his breakfast to himself.

He hadn't managed to do it for longer than ten seconds and Chan had played his role perfectly, having trained with Jeongin countless times, just to be able to convincingly fake his own shock, just to convincingly sink to his knees in a sudden display of weakness, just to convincingly force out some tears.

Jeongin had not been quite as subtle when Jisung had come crawling to him later that same day, but he hadn't needed to because he was Jeongin.

_''Hyunjin's dead? Oh no, that's too bad.''_

Jisung had been a mess after this little stunt for a long time.

Chan remembered the ugly sobs and desperate tears all too well.

The shaking hands that tried to bring a spoon to his mouth.

The weak legs that collapsed under him as soon as he took a step.

The scratch marks and wounds on his arms and legs that did nothing to distract him from the hard truth.

The tortured screams that were barely muted by the pillows he pressed on his face.

The times he would wail in the hallway for Jeongin after a bad dream had roused him from his sleep, the younger's door always firmly closed and locked.

Of course Chan knew why, but he had pretended not to in front of Jisung, instead enjoying the crying that wafted into his room, as well as the scratching and thumping on Jeongin's door as if Jisung was some kind of feral animal.

The boy had wept for a friend that was lost forever, seeking comfort from the one person that was responsible for his suffering in the first place.

Chan found it amusing.

Jisung had spent a lot of his free time around Jeongin, whether to cuddle, talk his trauma out, be comforted or simply for the sake of being with him, giving the younger the perfect opportunity to manipulate him for his own gain and reeducate him so he wouldn't be a threat to the business.

Jisung had liked browsing the internet for news about his favorite idol groups and keeping in touch with the world, but Jeongin had put an end to that under the pretense of wanting to spare him unnecessary trauma that would result from the media downplaying Hyunjin's death and ever since then, Jisung never really used his phone anymore, missing all the important news of people getting kidnapped left and right.

Chan sometimes believed the boy trusted Jeongin to the point that if Jeongin told him to jump off a bridge, Jisung would not hesitate to do so.

Spending this much time together and getting showered with sweet and comforting words, even if there were insincere and forced, had naturally begun to affect Jisung's mentality after a while and he had gotten both better and worse in terms of dealing with his loss.

Better because he had managed to cheer up and start taking care of himself again.

Worse because he had grown so overly dependent on Jeongin and his praises that he almost couldn't function without him anymore.

But even though Jeongin had told him he'd be better off forgetting the friend that had been taken from him, even though Jisung had agreed to that statement, he had never been able to do it.

He had never forgotten.

And on March 20th, it all came back to him with such an intensity that he lost his normally cheerful nature and fell into his maze of memories.

So Jeongin had switched tactics once more.

If erasing Jisung's memories didn't work, they had to distract him.

''Jisung.''

Jisung stopped walking, one foot already in the elevator as he turned around, eyes immediately widening as he set his sight on the album in Jeongin's hands.

This was way too easy.

''Is that...''

''Yep, it's your favorite idol'', Jeongin confirmed, waving the album around in an attempt to get him to come closer. ''Afterglow from Lee Know. You're welcome.''

Oh.

Chan hadn't realized that Jisung's favorite idol was coincidentally the one they would be catching next, but that was an interesting piece of information.

He watched the younger boy visibly light up as he hurried over to Jeongin who gave him an incredibly authentic smile, his acting certainly having improved a lot.

''I know you tend to feel down on March 20th, so I thought I'd try to cheer you up. I really hate to see you sad, it hurts me.''

He ruffled Jisung's hair lovingly, the boy's eyes leaking the first tears, yet he still attempted to stay composed for a second longer, body trembling from the first sobs that were fighting their way up his throat.

''Thank you, Innie'', he managed to choke out and the sound of his own broken voice, so weak and miserable, was all it took to send him stumbling into Jeongin's waiting arms. ''Thank you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you.''

''Neither do I'', Jeongin agreed, his expression hardening even as he kept petting Jisung's head, even as he kept drawing circles on his back, even as Jisung was leaning into every touch, melting from the rare affection. ''You'd be nothing without me, Sungie. You'd be less of a person and more of a loose collection of mistakes if it weren't for me. You should be grateful, love.''

It was almost heartbreaking how eagerly Jisung nodded, having long since internalized the words and turned them into some sort of fucked up comfort for himself.

''I'm so happy to have you.''

He was full on weeping now, his grip on Jeongin probably tighter than what was comfortable, but the younger didn't even flinch as he held Jisung, allowing him to completely melt into him, drowning in everything that was Jeongin.

''You're sorry, aren't you?''

He leaned closer to whisper the words into Jisung's ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin there and causing Jisung to shiver as goosebumps appeared all over his body.

''I'm really sorry'', Jisung whispered back, at this point merely echoing what he was expected to say. It fascinated Chan.

''Hm, of course you are, and what for?''

''For thinking about Hyunjin.''

The answer came without hesitation, as naturally as a stroke on Jisung's canvas, as naturally as the first beautifully ragged breath that Chan's victims heaved after he was done almost drowning them.

''And?''

One of Jeongin's most effective tactics, the one Chan had fallen prey to one too many times against his will, always pressured to keep going to satisfy the younger.

Not that Jeongin was ever truly satisfied with anything anyway.

''For missing Hyunjin.''

''And?''

A pause.

Not long enough to be suspicious, but a pause nonetheless.

''For being so useless and pathetic.''

''And?''

Jisung hesitated.

He didn't have anything more to be sorry for, but of course, this wouldn't suffice.

''That can't be all you're sorry for, Sungie. I'm disappointed.''

That simple word struck Jisung more violently than a physical hit ever would have and Chan saw him flinching in shock, his brain trying to come up with something, anything.

''I... I...''

Jeongin purposefully loosened his hold on Jisung, watching with satisfaction how the boy slipped to the ground, unable to keep his grip as all strength drained from his body.

He was desperate for approval, desperate enough to degrade himself just to earn a single compliment or kind word from the one person he valued most in the universe, so he slowly sunk to his knees on the floor in front of the younger, his arms wrapping around Jeongin's legs as some sort of pathetic attempt to keep Jeongin from leaving.

Leaving _him_.

He probably looked so pitiful right now, and oh, how Chan _wished_ to be on the receiving end of Jisung's devastated gaze, savoring the boy's distress in all its glory like Jeongin currently had the pleasure of doing.

''You're being very unreasonable here'', the youngest continued, face pulled into a pout as his fingers tangled themselves into Jisung's hair, pulling on the strands harshly to try and detach the boy from him. ''All I'm asking is that you apologize for fucking up all the time, that's not too much now, is it?''

Jisung didn't answer, only letting out soft whimpers and tightening his grip on Jeongin, and Chan could see the younger rolling his eyes in annoyance, not really someone to particularly enjoy such clingyness.

''Sungie, are you listening?''

No answer, just more whimpers and sobs, coupled with incomprehensible muttering that bordered between panic and blame as Jisung started rambling to himself, eyes blown wide and distant, like he was somewhere else.

Back in the confining and narrow space, his own little prison cell, people outside going about their day as usual while he was locked away from all civilization, yearning for the traitorous friends who had left him to rot.

Back on the street, every harsh day that scraped past him giving him more of a reason to let himself fall into the unforgiving abyss.

Back in his old life, cruel and cold as it had been.

''Sungie.''

The word dripped from Jeongin's lips like honey, sweet and pleasant, instantly rousing Jisung from his self-induced trance as his gaze settled on the younger. The center of his world.

''Try apologizing again, sweetheart, will you? Will you do that for me, Sungie?''

He was so gentle, so careful, so encouraging with his words, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it to get to Jisung's very core.

He knew him like an open book.

Jisung drew a shaky breath and just nodded in obedience, still not moving from his position on the ground, but losening his grip around Jeongin's legs enough for the younger to be able to move somewhat.

When he spoke next, he sounded a lot more collected, his voice strangely hollow to the point that Chan wondered just how much Jeongin had really broken him.

''I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so ungrateful. I'm sorry for not contributing as much as everyone else. I'm sorry for taking you for granted. I'm sorry for being so clingy. I'm sorry for being too attached to others. I'm sorry for being needy. I'm sorry for being such a failure. I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry I'm not what you wanted.''

He was visibly taking a breath, the next set of apologies ready to spill out, but Jeongin interrupted him by crouching down to his level and taking a hold of his chin, head tilted slightly as a victorious smile played on his lips.

''And is there anything else you'd like to say to me?''

''Thank you.''

Jisung held his gaze, eyes unfocused as more tears escaped him.

''Thank you for picking me off the street. Thank you for giving me a place to stay. Thank you for teaching me how to hurt less. Thank you for catching me when I fall. Thank you for never taking advantage of me. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for always being kind. Thank you for understanding my needs. And thank you for spending your valuable money to buy me this album. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.''

Jeongin gave a breathy laugh and petted his head again condescendingly as he straightened himself up.

Tears were still streaming down Jisung's face and he didn't even know why he was crying because he was actually so happy right now.

So grateful to Jeongin. So grateful. So incredibly grateful.

''There, there.''

The album unceremoniously dropped to the floor in front of him with a heavy thud and tiny, colorful cards slid out from inbetween the pages, scattering all over the polished marble.

Photocards.

He dared to glance at the album that lay opened in front of him, the fall having slightly damaged it. But it didn't matter.

_Maybe I belong among the stars. - Lee Know_

He wanted to cry even harder reading the sentence imprinted on one of the pages, but he didn't know why.

He wanted to cry even harder seeing Lee Know with all these little star and galaxy accessories in his black hair as he was draped over a couch in front of a mirror, his reflection showing nothing but the vastness of the universe. But he didn't know why.

''Thank you, Jeongin'', he heard himself say again. ''You're so good to me.''

''You're welcome.''


	10. [Black ???]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter where that Hyunin relationship tag starts to become relevant.
> 
> As always, there's plenty of manipulative and shitty Jeongin ahead. Lovely.

_**> >System Log<<** _

_**WARNING: One of the pieces encountered a bug.** _

Visiting Hyunjin's grave was fun.

Jeongin didn't do it that often, only really bothering to make the trip to the cemetery a few times per year, but every time he did, he felt so incredibly refreshed afterwards.

It wasn't one of the really big cemeteries, he didn't believe Hyunjin's parents could have afforded that anyway, but it was spacious enough to get lost in it if you didn't watch where you were going.

Despite not coming here often, Jeongin knew which paths to take in order to get to Hyunjin, the directions burned into his brain from the very first time he had stepped foot into this cage of the dead.

From the very first time the dead leaves of the trees from all around him had crunched under his feet, startling a few crows that had been sitting on the graves.

From the very first time the howling of the wind had penetrated the eerie silence, whipping him across the face as if to cuss at him, the only living being among the festival of rotten corpses.

Being in a place with so many dead people was something he never really experienced in his job and honestly, he found it quite boring.

What fun was there in musing about someone else's death if he hadn't been the one responsible for it?

What fun was there if there wasn't any challenge to walking around on these _sacred grounds_?

He didn't get the whole concept of this place either.

Burying someone to hide their decaying body was understandable, yet he couldn't understand how people could swarm to this place in regular intervals, leaving gifts and flowers and candles for their dead friends or family or _whatever_ that they could do nothing with because they were _dead._

It seemed like a waste of money, time and patience, especially for someone like him who had to run an entire business.

His footsteps echoed on the ground, firm and determined as he strode down one of the paths, past that familiar camellia that waved happily at him and past the giant cross that marked the middle of the cemetery.

From here he could already make out the shape of Hyunjin's grave, perfectly blending in with all the others beside it, and he quickened his pace, his steps light as an overwhelming feeling of joy formed inside of his heart.

He had won.

Every time he visited, the realization came back to him.

The euphoria he got from it never died down, his victory having simply been so satisfying that merely the thought was enough to tug the corners of his mouth upwards.

A truly magnificent game he had played with his dear friend.

One where he hadn't lost a single asset, but his friend, his rival, had lost a bunch.

Taking a shortcut through some other graves, he stepped over daisies, poinsettias, dahlias and tulips alike, probably crushing some under his feet, though that wasn't really important.

His gaze was fixed on the simple grave almost at the end of the row, the inscription becoming visible as he came closer and he crouched down, inspecting the tombstone with mild interest as his fingers were tracing some small cracks in the stone.

**_Hwa_ _ng Hyunjin_ **

**_20 th March 2000 - 3rd August 2018_ **

If he closed his eyes and pretended really hard, he could actually feel some sort of pity for the poor soul that was left six feet underground, but he cast that feeling aside just as quickly.

No use crying over spilled milk.

The uneven stone beneath his fingers was irritating, so he dropped his hands to rest on his knees, briefly noticing the purple flowers – cyclamen if he recalled correctly – that had been placed on the grave, as well as a letter safely tucked away underneath a book that seemed like it had only recently been put there.

Probably a birthday gift, though what the purpose of that was, Jeongin didn't know. It wasn't going to bring Hyunjin back.

The grave was very neatly kept in general, almost to the point of it being embarrassing as he eyed the silly star motifs Hyunjin's parents had created with pristinely white stones and he cringed at the thought of the Hwangs spending time out of their day actually polishing these stones every once in a while.

What a waste, there were better things to do with their time.

He picked the book up, turning it around to realize it was some sort of collection of poetry, essays and short texts, all related to how to deal with the loss of a child.

Ha. Fitting.

The letter was more interesting to him and he instantly unfolded it to take a closer look, not even caring how disrespectful he was right now.

Like hell was he going to respect dead people.

_To our dearest son._

Off to a great start already. Jeongin felt like throwing up.

_First and foremost, happy birthday._

_You would be turning twenty today, taking another step towards being a fully independent adult and completing your study you worked so hard for._

_It's honestly quite hard to believe that two years have already gone by and we still haven't found your murderer._

_We aren't any wiser than we were when you disappeared and it makes us feel like we're failing you because we can't get justice for the heinous acts committed on a boy that had barely reached adulthood._

_I remember how much we used to clash over your choice of career because we could simply not see you in the criminology major, but looking back, it was where you always belonged._

_You always pushed to find out the truth, never willing to tolerate any kind of injustice and whenever I saw you hunched over another case in the dead of night, I really thought there was hope for this cruel world._

_I really hoped you would be able to change this heartless society with your bright laugh, your warm smiles, your touching and kind actions and your honest attitude._

_And even if you'll never have a chance to read this letter, I want to tell you I was always proud of you and your achievements, no matter how small they might have been to you._

_We were always proud of you._

_You were as perfect a son as we could have hoped for._

_You were liked and adored by everyone, a true prince of all hearts._

_You were the sweetest, loveliest man we'll ever know._

_So why...?_

_Why have you been taken from us?_

_Heaven gained an angel, but in turn we lost our star forever._

_Home doesn't feel like home anymore without you, everything is cold and lonely even after two long years._

_We haven't touched a single of your belongings, your clothes still hang over your chair and I bet they still smell like you._

_Your room feels so empty._

_The sun kept on peeking through the blinds every morning and I still remember how you complained about not being able to sleep in as much as you wanted, so we got you better blinds._

_You should see how much darker everything is now, I think you would really like it._

_Kkami certainly likes it, with how much he's curling up on your bed these days._

_He still scratches at your door every day, waiting for you to let him in._

_He still rushes to the door every time we have visitors, hoping it's you._

_He still sits on your bed every day, waiting for you to come back._

_And so do we, even if we know it won't happen._

_The resentment and grief we feel is still overwhelming after all this time and frankly, we don't want the pain to disappear because it is proof that we have loved dearly. We loved you unconditionally._

_For 18 years, we were able to see you grow. To hold you tightly, dry your tears and heal your scrapes._

_The ache did, to an extent, dissipate. In the beginning, we felt like drowning._

_As time went on, the waves of grief were lesser, but there are also days when we are wholly engulfed in the pain._

_We will forever grieve our most precious son and the life you were supposed to have, the lives we were supposed to have with you._

_We miss you, little prince._

_You may be gone from our sight, but you are never gone from our hearts._

_Be at rest, Hyunjin._

''Yeah, be at fucking rest'', Jeongin scoffed, the letter disappearing into the pocket of his jeans as he straightened himself up.

He had no reason to take it with him, but he felt like disrespecting the dead a little more than usual today, disturbing the serene atmosphere by taking some comfort from Hyunjin's parents.

They visited the grave somewhat regularly when they weren't busy raking in tons of money to give to the nonprofit organization called _Find the Children_ in order to prevent families from facing the same loss they had suffered.

At least that was what Jeongin had gathered from the letter they had placed on Hyunjin's grave last year, the thing detailing exactly how much they were donating and how they wished Hyunjin would watch over them as they did so, being proud that they were finally making a small change in the heartless world.

Except they weren't making any change with their Samaritan bullshit and were just uselessly investing valuable money, but as long as it kept them occupied and out of his hair, it was more than fine.

Speak of the devil, he could hear two pairs of heavy, dreadful footsteps approaching on the grass, making him cheer on the inside that he had finally managed to head them off for the first time in two years of coming here, yet he purposefully acted as if he didn't hear them, instead fixating his gaze on the tombstone once more, an expression of sorrow and remorse finding its way onto his face.

Showtime.

The first tears fell almost completely naturally and by the time Hyunjin's parents had come into earshot, he was full on sobbing, hands clutching his head as if to block out all the demons whispering to him about how he should have spent more time with Hyunjin before he was so cruelly taken away.

How he should have pressed harder when he'd noticed the other being strangely absent during lectures.

How he should have gone after him when Hyunjin _had run out into the woods all on his own to clear his head_.

Because that was what had happened, wasn't it?

It hadn't been a _kidnapping_ by any means, it had just been a runaway case turned deadly. How tragic.

His knees buckled under him from the overwhelming misery clouding his memory, tightening its hold on all the happy times he had experienced with Hyunjin and crushing them, crumpling them up like a worthless piece of paper.

Never again would he be able to hang out at Hyunjin's house, books stacked on the bed as they discussed the psychology of criminals, never again would he watch Hyunjin's passionate dancing at the studio and wonder why he hadn't chosen dance as his major, never again would he comfortably curl up against the other boy, inhaling his scent as his warm voice carried him off to sleep by singing a lullaby.

Shit, Jeongin really loved his voice.

And he would never get to hear it again.

''Come here, sweetheart...''

Without so much as a second thought, Jeongin turned to face Hyunjin's mother, barely able to make her out through his teary vision as she embraced him, looking to share his grief from losing one of the dearest people in his life.

Her voice was thick with tears as she tried her best to soothe someone who didn't even need to be soothed in any way, sweet nothings entering Jeongin's ears as he listened to her poor excuse of comfort.

''Hyunjin's in a better place now, he's not hurting anymore, it's fine, it's fine, he's fine. It's all good now, don't cry, sweetie, don't cry.''

She hugged him tighter, more rambling and utter nonsense spilling out of her mouth as an outlet for her own anguish that had piled up so much that she had all but choked on it, unable to breathe.

''My baby, my precious Jinnie, my prince...''

She clung onto Jeongin as if he was the one comforting her and not the other way around and it annoyed him, yet he did his best to force his expression back into a miserable grimace and continue staining the woman's jacket with his tears until she would hopefully pull away.

''They took my baby from me. My only son and they took him. They took him. And killed him.''

''Who did?'', Jeongin pressed out, voice slightly muffled from her jacket, yet still understandable.

She snivelled, finally detaching herself from him to wipe at her wet eyes before plunging into her husband's arms instead.

Jeongin couldn't make out any of the hysterical cries that escaped her, but thankfully, her husband was there to cover for that.

''We don't know.''

_Perfect._

''Oh.''

He was proud how sincere, how lost, how deflated he sounded, but he always strived to take it up a notch, always wanted to do even better, so he opened his mouth again, visibly fighting with his words for a second before he swallowed painfully.

''You... you got to have _something_ , right? Please, I... I just want to know...''

He stopped himself to make a vague gesture towards the grave, more tears welling up and blurring his sight even more.

''I just want to know why he was ripped out of this world.''

The older male slowly shook his head, sadness evident in the way he heaved a sigh, evident in the way he shrunk in on himself a little more, evident in the way he refused to meet Jeongin's gaze.

''We have nothing.''

_Nothing._

They had _nothing_.

Jeongin almost cooed, but quickly schooled his features as the man eyed him carefully.

''Were you a friend of Hyunjin's?''

Oh?

The world screeched to a stop around him as his mind began working, wondering how he should play into that question to get the maximum amount of information and sympathy out of these people.

Was he a friend? Was he maybe something _more_?

Hyunjin wasn't a very open person about his relationships, not even with his parents, so he could probably get away with...

''His boyfriend.''

...With that.

More sobs erupted from Hyunjin's mother while her husband just stared at Jeongin for a second, mouth slightly open in shock and eyes betraying the struggle he had with comprehending this information.

''I... was never aware that Hyunjin had a boyfriend.''

Jeongin did his best to look remorseful, fiddling with his hands nervously.

He was surprised there wasn't any resistance from them in response to him claiming that Hyunjin liked guys, but maybe they had always had a lingering suspicion.

After all Jeongin had seen for himself how willing and open for his advances the older had been.

Stupid. He was so stupid.

But that was what had made him the perfect doll.

''We wanted to keep it secret, but...'', he broke off as another wave of emotions washed over him, a plan already forming in his mind. ''But they ruined it. They took him from me before we could come out of the closet. And I didn't even get to kiss him one last time.''

He crouched down, a tortured scream crawling up his throat, however, he suppressed it by stuffing his fist into his mouth and biting down on it, hard and harder until the skin tore and scarlet leaked out.

He was making himself bleed for Hyunjin, for the sake of convincing his parents that he was genuinely upset, and if that didn't scream dedication, Jeongin didn't know what did.

Luckily, his effort seemed to pay off, for he was pulled to his feet and embraced once more as Hyunjin's parents introduced themselves to what they believed was their dead son's boyfriend, expressing their regret that they couldn't have met under other circumstances.

It was fucking hilarious.

''Jeongin, would you like to come back to our place and join us for a cup of tea and some cake?''

Now, that was a weird offer to make some random kid they didn't even know, but he wasn't going to pass up on that opportunity now that it had presented itself.

If they were going to be naive like this and believe his bullshit, their problem.

Personally, he'd been dying to catch a glimpse of Hyunjin's room for a while because the boy still possessed something that really shouldn't be out in the open like this.

He had evidence.

And even though Jeongin had the situation totally under control, he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous at the thought that the evidence could be discovered by someone.

It was something that could always be hung over him, something that made for incriminating blackmail if it were to land in the wrong hands. Or anyone's hands really.

Which was why Jeongin didn't waste another second on agreeing to the offer, barely able to keep his excitement down as he followed Hyunjin's parents to their car.

That evidence had to go. There was no way around it.

_''Where is it, Hyunjin?''_

_Hyunjin stared at him defiantly, but made no indication to answer, his fingers twitching in anger and his face betraying all too well how badly he wanted to punch Jeongin in the face._

_But he couldn't._

_Not with the handcuffs encircling his wrists and certainly not with the chain that was attached to Jeongin's bedpost on one end and Hyunjin's choker on the other, keeping him right where Jeongin wanted to have him, unable to get away._

_''Hyunjin, answer.''_

_He yanked on the classy metal, gentle at first and then more forceful when he still didn't get an answer, eliciting pained gasps from the boy on the floor as his head was forced forwards._

_But he didn't talk. Even after repeated threats, repeated abuse, he kept quiet, clinging to this pathetic strategy of his, insisting that there was **someone** who would come and save him._

_Jeongin couldn't believe how stubborn he still was even though it brought him literally no gain._

_He just couldn't listen, could he?_

_''I'll give you one more chance. You'd do well to comply.''_

_Hyunjin's eyes darkened, all the hate, disdain and pain he had endured up until this point clouding them over._

_His hands clenched and unclenched in their restraints and his whole being was practically vibrating with contempt as he attempted to stare Jeongin down, something that remained as a miserable attempt because he really wasn't the most intimidating when it came to stuff like this. Never had been._

_''Over my dead body'', he hissed and Jeongin instantly reared up at the words, reaching for the knife on his nightstand as fury took over him._

_''Okay'', he agreed. ''Over your dead body. Why not.''_

By the time they arrived at the Hwangs' residence, located further towards the outskirts, Jeongin had completely internalized the mindset of a mourning boyfriend and was ready to outplay Hyunjin's parents with the perfect delivery of his role.

The first thing he took notice of as he stepped out of the car was how nice and perfectly normal the house looked, but of course he had seen it so many times already that it wasn't a big deal anymore.

He had felt the familiarity and warmth that radiated from it countless times and the tea room he was lead into also wasn't an unfamiliar sight to him.

He'd seen these walls before, lined with pictures of pretty flowers and he also recognized the pot plants that were neatly arranged on the windowsill.

He'd seen the desk next to the sofa a thousand times, crammed full of notes and Hyunjin's old criminology books, and he'd also felt the softness of the pillows under him as soon as he sat down.

Nothing here was new to him because he was Hyunjin's boyfriend and he had been here on a regular basis.

''Do you have a certain preference for tea, Jeongin?'', Hyunjin's mother asked, already on her way to the kitchen to go through the different types of tea they had while Jeongin was handed a plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it.

He wasn't hungry, but since this was a gift, he honored their efforts by trying a little bit of the cake, surprised when it tasted better than he had expected.

The chocolate melted in his mouth and the consistency was pleasantly fluffy and light, but he stopped himself from enjoying it too much since this absolutely wasn't what he was here for.

No, he was here because he was mourning the death of his boyfriend and because he wanted to visit the room he had spent so many nights secretly in one last time, so he set his plate down and shyly fiddled with his hands.

''Can I go into Jinnie's room?''

His voice was still watery from the tears and Hyunjin's father gave him a sympathetic glance before he nodded towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, giving his consent to Jeongin being up there.

How easy it was to wrap people around his little finger.

''You probably want to be alone, so go ahead.''

''Thank you.''

Jeongin bowed in thankfulness and made his way up the stairs, barely managing to keep his grin to himself as soon as he was out of sight.

The bright and lively hallways all around him were bursting with life, pictures of landscapes on the walls that seemed almost like an escape from the dire reality and almost every door guarded by a pot plant on the floor, reflecting the Hwangs' need to love and care for _something_ now that they didn't have Hyunjin anymore.

Even though he had never been in this house, he knew exactly where Hyunjin's room was, almost as if an instinct was drawing him to it.

The boyfriend instinct, most likely.

The thought caused him to chuckle as he strode along the hallway, though his amusement turned to annoyance the moment he noticed a tiny ball of fur on the floor in front of Hyunjin's door, angrily growling at him.

Kkami. Hyunjin's stupid dog.

Hyunjin's stupid dog that had no reason to growl at him, considering he had seen Jeongin a dozen of times, but he guessed it was something different for Kkami when Hyunjin wasn't right next to him, assuring his pet that he was a good person.

Animals just had that sixth sense that told them whether a person was good or bad and apparently, Kkami had decided that Jeongin was bad. Which made him about twenty times smarter than his owner.

He stepped closer and crouched down, holding out his hand for the dog, but Kkami simply growled a little more, even making an attempt to bite him.

Jeongin pulled away just in time, cocking his head and fixing the furball with a mocking stare.

''Oh well, growl at me all you want, but you'll never see your precious Hyunjinnie again.''

He heaved himself up, shooing Kkami away with a half-hearted kick at him before he pushed the door open, immediately getting hit in the face by a smell that was so unmistakingly _Hyunjin_ that he almost choked on the intensity of it.

How was it possible that the room smelled like him even after two years?

It was dark, the blinds pulled down all the way, shrouding the place in darkness, and Jeongin flicked the light switch to give him a better overview and help him to find what he had come here for.

The room was tidy, the desk in the corner nearly empty save for Hyunjin's laptop and one of the last cases he had analyzed before he had gone missing.

Choi Yeonjun.

TXT's second tragedy and the one that had caused Bighit to officially dissolve the group for good after they had retrieved Yeonjun's body from the forest they had found Beomgyu in as well, no doubt having fallen prey to that chess playing killer that always killed his victims in a very specific way.

If Hyunjin's deductions were to be believed, the killer always cut off his victims' tongues and proceeded to stab them in the stomach with a military knife until they either succumbed to their wounds or choked on their blood.

It was pretty forward if you asked Jeongin and still, Hyunjin had not agreed with the police when they had brought in the killer because he believed in these values of friendship and his intuition that had told him that the boy had been innocent.

_''He was framed! He wouldn't do this!''_

Even with all the evidence pointing to him, the incriminating accessory on the scene of the crime and Yeonjun's tongue stored away at the boy's home, Hyunjin had been hell-bent on finding the _real_ killer.

Maybe if he hadn't tried to stick his nose where it didn't belong, he would still be alive.

But no, of course he had to go and spread the rumor about the killer still being on the loose and of course there was a friend who believed him, being put off by the more than fishy evidence, and of course they had discovered the _one_ thing Jeongin had failed to account for.

So what had been the obvious solution?

Getting rid of both Hyunjin and the mysterious friend.

_''Who knows?''_

_Jeongin tightened his grip on Hyunjin's chin, making sure that an ugly bruise would form on his milky porcelain skin later, but as always, Hyunjin didn't reply._

_He had merely shifted on the floor, his legs getting sore from staying in the same position pretty much all the time, but Jeongin didn't feel sorry for him._

_Were he to actually cooperate for once, he was sure he would at the very least **think** about adjusting his living conditions for a while._

_Hell, he might even consider letting the boy sleep in his bed._

_Or giving him more food, since he was getting awfully thin these days._

_''Hyunjin.''_

_''What.''_

_'' **Who** knows?'', he repeated, the chain firmly in his hand, having been shortened once more after Hyunjin had tried to strangle him in his sleep._

_He had secured it to the bedpost at the foot of the bed, keeping it at arms length so the boy couldn't try this shit ever again, but it really took away from the aesthetic and he didn't like it._

_It was really starting to piss Jeongin off that Hyunjin was still so fierce, still so unwilling to finally give into his fate and stop trying to fight something he couldn't fight._

_''Eat shit, Jeongin.''_

_Jeongin sighed and leaned a little closer, his patience slowly running out, but Hyunjin always knew to agitate him even more, spitting into Jeongin's face as soon as he was close enough._

_Warm globs of saliva were sliding down his cheek and the fact that this assholeeven had the audacity to fucking smirkat him as if he held any power in this situation made his blood boil._

_''I'm going to beat your fucking head in!'', he spat, his vision overflowing with red as he rose to his feet, dropping the chain in favor of striding towards his closet from where he pulled out a metal baseball bat, one of the random purchases he never had to use. Up until this point._

_The look of genuine terror on Hyunjin's face almost made him want to go through with his threat, but he managed to control himself, the bat tapping his hand continuously as he scowled at the older._

_He needed that information. And unfortunately, Hyunjin had to be alive to be able to give it to him._

_''Who,Hyunjin? Who?!''_

_''I...''_

_Hyunjin clearly did not want to spill, but he clearly didn't want to die either, torn between two choices without having a real choice._

_Jeongin would prove that to him._

_Right. Now._

Despite his best efforts back then, Hyunjin had not been able to keep the information to himself out of fear of Jeongin doing something to him and had accidentally unreveled the mystery of whom he had confided in, who had been in possession of dangerous information about Jeongin.

The look of pure horror on his handsome face as the words had escaped him was still such a fond memory in his mind, for it had been the first time the king had been tossed over.

It had been the first time for White to surrender to Jeongin's superiority before he had the chance to checkmate him.

Not quite as satisfying as delivering the final blow himself, but it did spare him time.

Once he had gotten a name, it had only been a matter of capturing and killing the threat and that had been that.

Or so he had believed.

Until the message.

_Never turn your back until you know your enemy is dead._

Jeongin hated that there was another person involved again.

Before, it had just been him and _his friend_ on the other side of the board, moving the white pieces as he pleased, but with the appearance of another person, the natural balance had shifted _again_ and Jeongin found himself faced with a new board, being expected to put himself through the horror that was three way chess.

It strayed from his routine and he wasn't ready for that.

So his course of action was obvious.

Eliminate the third person _again_ and restore balance to the board so he could concentrate on achieving the flawless victory he strived for.

But who _was_ the third person?

Granted, he would have probably guessed it to be the same bastard who had been a pain up his ass the first time this had happened, but the guy was more than dead, so that couldn't be it.

Well, unless he had somehow found a way to live after being stabbed repeatedly and having his intestines ripped out, in which case Jeongin was _dying_ to know how that worked.

So that guy was out.

He didn't really have any clues about this person's identity, so he rummaged through Hyunjin's closet in search for a hint, more and more clothes piling up on the floor as he carelessly tossed them behind himself.

There was nothing of importance, but he did find a fluffy hoodie that he really liked, so without thinking much, he slipped it over his head, immediately nuzzling into the warm fabric that somehow still smelled like Hyunjin.

It brought his boyfriend heart comfort, wearing something that once belonged to his significant other, and he kept searching in high spirits, examining the stack of books next, but not finding anything either.

The desk was another suspect and he systematically went through the drawers one by one, almost ripping them right out with the force he was using to open them.

The first one was stuffed full of various school utensils and random self-made CD's which didn't help at all, yet the second one was sort of a jackpot, containing Hyunjin's diary and a key that Jeongin didn't know what it was for, but pocketed anyway.

The diary was locked with one of those cheap locks and he scoffed, trying to get it open with the key he'd just found only to realize that it didn't fit.

Would have been too easy anyway.

He turned to opening the third drawer where Hyunjin kept all of his beauty products and accessories, including a simple hairpin with which he easily forced the lock open.

He flipped through the pages until he had reached the very end of the diary, noting how there was not a single page left unwritten, however, as soon as his gaze met the date of the last entry, he tensed, his hand unconsciously wandering down to his belt where he could feel the comforting metal of his gun.

_March 20 th 2020_

Someone had been in this room before him.

Someone had opened the diary before him, by the looks of it even with the actual key, and left an entry just for him, knowing he'd stumble upon it.

Someone had written into the diary, documenting their success as they had probably found what Jeongin had wanted.

Jeongin was fuming.

This was mockery.

His grip on the diary tightened and a low hiss ripped from his throat, the urge to tear the derisive page out of there so massive that he had to take a few deep breaths before he could even think about looking what had been written in there.

_Hi I.N._

_Or, well, you actually go by Yang Jeongin, don't you?_

_Who would have thought I would be one step ahead this time?_

_Surely not you, that's for sure._

No fucking way.

Him. It was _him_. Again. _Again._

No doubt about it.

It was that condescending bastard.

That condescending, patronizing, arrogant **bastard**.

It was impossible.

It was _supposed_ to be impossible, he had living and breathing proof that this bastard should be fucking _dead._

He had seen the life draining from his body with his own two good eyes.

What the fuck.

_In case you were wondering, the thing you were looking for was under Hyunjin's bed, safely tucked away from your vicious gaze, and you better believe I will use it to bring you to justice._

_You will pay for what you did to Jisung and Hyunjin._

_Speaking of Hyunjin, where is he?_

_I know he's not dead. I know you have him._

Jeongin brought a hand up to his forehead, tiny giggles escaping him that abruptly erupted into full on laughter as he threw his head back, his anger dissolving into hysteria right away.

''Hyunjin is not dead?'', he repeated, the certainty conveyed by that statement so incredibly ridiculous that he couldn't stop laughing at it. ''He's _not_ dead? Wouldn't you know everything about that, you bastard?''

There was a crash as the diary collided with Hyunjin's closet, but Jeongin couldn't get a hold of himself as he kept on laughing, the volume of it increasing more and more, surely attracting attention. But he couldn't care less right now.

Because this bastard honestly believed that Hyunjin was still alive and it was _so funny_.

Did Hyunjin think he was alive too from where he was rotting six feet underground, being nothing more than a bunch of dismembered body parts?

If that was the definition of alive, yeah, Hyunjin was pretty alive!

Jeongin lost complete control as his laughter wrecked his body and before he knew it, he had thrown himself onto Hyunjin's bed, curled up into a ball with tears streaming down his cheeks from laughing too hard.

It was just so hilarious. So funny.

He was gasping for breath, his vision swimming in front of his eyes, and as he tried to focus on his surroundings, he really thought he saw Hyunjin sitting on the chair in front of his desk, concentrating on some homework.

Just like he always did when Jeongin was here.

_''Baby, are you awake?''_

He was losing it.

He could tell from the way his laughter turned hysterical, maniacal, yet somehow, he could hear his answer to Hyunjin's question just fine.

_''Jinnie, come back to bed, I'm lonely.''_

Hyunjin turned around, a smile gracing his lips as he simply admired his baby, his boyfriend, spread out on his bed, being so whiny and needy and pliant for him.

He pushed himself up and crossed the distance between them in a few quick steps, taking Jeongin's face into his hands as soon as he had reached the bed.

_''Well, can't have that now, can we?''_

Hilarious.

Jeongin found it so hilarious.

He was hallucinating his dead boyfriend.

How was that for an insanity plea?

Hyunjin cupped his cheeks, his cold fingers refreshing on Jeongin's heated skin as the older leaned in to kiss him, but of course he couldn't because he was _dead._

Soft lips brushed against his own and he heard himself moan into the kiss, his laughter subsiding for the moment as he eagerly opened his mouth to let Hyunjin explore.

His hands moved all on their own, tugging the other closer, wanting to intertwine their bodies into one giant heap of warmth and care and love.

The warm skin felt so incredibly good under his touch and he let his fingers sneak under the older's shirt, not missing the gasp that escaped the boy.

Deciding that he liked the sound, Jeongin explored further, tracing the muscles on Hyunjin's stomach with interest, enjoying how he could feel them move under his touch.

Hyunjin's tongue slipped into his mouth, the taste of raspberry and blood and Hyunjin and _blood_ instantly overwhelming and it was about that moment that Jeongin put an end to this charade and pushed him away.

His boyfriend tasted good, so good, really _good_ even with the blood, _because_ of the blood, but it was funny because he was dead.

He was dead, but this other bastard somehow was not.

What the hell was this bullshit.

He pushed himself up from the bed, ignoring the hallucination that looked at him like a lost puppy, probably wondering what it had done wrong, as he hurried out of the room.

Before he had even blinked, he was back on the cemetery.

The sun had set on the horizon already and darkness was spreading, only the moon's light illuminating the tombstones in front of him as Jeongin fought his way through them, every step making a squelching sound in the rain-sodden ground.

Some people would be creeped out being here so late at night, but the only thing he could focus on was the fact that this bastard, this goddamn bastard, apparently either _lived_ or had learned how to magically write into diaries from the afterlife.

Frankly, he wished it was the latter possibility because he really didn't want to deal with that pest again, not after last time and not with how much trouble that bastard was, but somehow, he doubted magic was involved here.

The flashlight he'd brought with him scanned over the inscriptions, but all he saw were the names of strangers, only strangers, and it was disappointing.

Had he really forgotten where his grave was?

Such a sweet victory and he had already forgotten it?

He was about to curse out loud when suddenly, the light caught a familiar name, a name that he had hoped he would never have to hear or see or think about ever again.

His breath hitched as memories of the boy writhing underneath him flooded his mind, panting and leaking blood from where Jeongin had plunged his knife right into his chest, right where he knew his other wounds were.

Choked and pained noises had penetrated the silence as he'd pulled it out, only to bring it down again with twice as much force.

Nails had dug themselves into his skin, creating long, angry scratch marks as the body beneath him proved to be harder to control than originally thought, but it had been a quick fix.

One more stab to the stomach, one more to the chest.

By all means, this asshole should be _dead_.

Why wasn't he?

 _How_ wasn't he?

Jeongin crouched down in front of the grave, his hands gathering a fistful of the muddy earth under which he was supposed to be buried, as he stared challengingly at the words.

''How come you're not dead...''

**_Seo Changbin_ **

**_11 th August 1999 – 15th September 2019_ **

''...Seo Changbin?''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15th September... Now where have I heard THAT before in this fic...?


	11. [White ???]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy International Chess Day!!
> 
> I couldn't just **not** update today, so despite the chapter not being fully edited, here you go.
> 
> In fact it isn't obvious from the content: This chapter and the two next ones take place in the past (late 2017 or early 2018).

_**> >System Log Not Found<<** _

_**Logging interrupted, Log not found.** _

Wednesday was rap day.

Changbin couldn't remember when it had been established like that between them and neither did he remember who had initiated it, but it was a thing now.

Wednesday was when the three of them came together after a long grueling day of studying for their respective majors, setting aside the world and their responsibilities in favor of just spending a few peaceful hours in Jisung's apartment.

Wednesday was when they actually took the time to cook something nutritious for once instead of living off the wonder that was instant noodles, sitting down on the couch in Jisung's living room and sharing stories about their classes with each other while simultaneously writing down lyrics about their thoughts and feelings.

Their exchanges could range from emotional to silly, but they were treasured just the same by all of them because they came from heart.

The lyrics they wrote down were dear to their hearts, sincere, like a little piece of themselves eternalized in ink and the tunes they made up along the way created an additional picture of their desires, hopes and dreams.

Changbin couldn't remember when they had found out that they were all naturally gifted in writing and producing songs, but some day, after a delicious stew at Jisung's place, it had just come up and Jisung had all but dragged them down to the basement where he kept his music equipment, pushing them to help him with a song he'd been stuck on.

One thing had led to another and they ended up producing not one, but two whole songs that night, working on their vocals and raps until late into the night just to make sure everything was perfect.

The week after they had completed the songs, they'd unconsciously all met up in front of Jisung's apartment again and ever since then, it was their unofficial ritual.

Wednesday was rap day.

It was a hobby, nothing more than that, and that was just the way they liked it because it meant they never had to force inspiration out onto the paper to be productive and meet a certain deadline.

If they weren't inspired, they just hung out in Jisung's living room, watching movies and talking about god knew what until Jisung would inevitably jerk up and gasp as an idea had him running down to his makeshift studio.

Because Jisung, as the only one whose major actually fit his hobby, never really got to take his mind off of it and although Changbin secretly disapproved, he knew that the younger would get incredibly restless and unhappy if he was forced to set his passion for music aside for too long.

He just belonged into the music major and there was no denying that fact.

Changbin had struggled with his choice of major a lot during his teen years, always going back and forth between wanting to apply for a music study as well or being realistic and choosing something that would actually bring him a stable income later on.

Like biochemistry.

It hadn't been a purely practical decision on his part, he had actually enjoyed chemistry and biology a great amount back in school, even if it had gotten him incredulous stares from people more often than not.

There was just something oddly satisfying about figuring out the world through the eyes of science, admiring the evolution that had taken place over millions of years, comparing how different animals and humans functioned and tracing every human behavior back to chemical reactions.

As a criminology major, Hyunjin had disagreed with him on that last one on more than one occasion, but it hadn't stopped the two of them to grow closer to each other over their constant bickering.

At that time, Hyunjin and Jisung hadn't been the greatest of friends, but with Changbin's constant guidance and a promise to talk to each other rationally, things had sorted themselves out pretty quickly and the three of them had gotten to be what they were now.

3racha.

A flaming hot rap trio and producing team for their own songs that met every Wednesday to indulge in their hobby. Today as well.

''It doesn't work...''

Changbin looked up from his homework to see Hyunjin restlessly pacing the creative room they had met up in as usual after lessons, an irritated expression etched on his face.

They were both still waiting for Jisung to finally finish whatever was holding him up and meet them here, but Hyunjin had figured there was no harm in thinking up some lyrics until they could retreat to the comfy space that was Jisung's home.

Only problem was it didn't seem to work as intended, as evident by the notebook that lay tossed aside in the corner, being glared at by Hyunjin as if the lyrics written down there had personally insulted him.

It was always like that with him.

Either he came up with the perfect phrasing for a song right away or he spent days pondering what to make of that one line that bothered him.

''Double Knot is coming along nicely, but there is one thing that still stands out to me.''

''The chorus'', Changbin guessed, not the least bit surprised when Hyunjin nodded in confirmation.

The chorus, the supposed killing part, somehow didn't satisfy any of them and it was hard to tell what exactly the reason was, but Jisung had recently commented on the fact that it sounded rather _empty_ and Changbin agreed.

''We're missing something.'' Hyunjin picked his notebook up, only to frustratedly tear the page out of it, almost crumpling it up in the process. ''A catchy phrase. A powerful signature. Something that hypes people up.''

Changbin gave a soft hum to show that he had listened, his mind already elsewhere as he mentally went through the song's lyrics, all the way to the chorus.

_Tie it up, make it stronger._

_Tie it tighter, double knot._

_Tie it tighter, double knot._

He hit a dead end after that, unable to come up with anything as his pencil kept tapping on his _Medical Biochemistry_ textbook in frustration, and it really wasn't a surprise because they'd been getting stuck on exactly this section for the better part of three weeks now.

It had reached a point where Changbin wanted nothing more than to just leave the song as it was and move onto their next project so that it wouldn't suck all the fun out of them, but Jisung had insisted they try a little longer and really, who on this earth could deny Jisung?

Short answer was no one, so here they were, mulling over anything and everything they could put into this goddamn chorus to make it even more lively and powerful.

''Tie it tighter, double knot'', Hyunjin repeated for the nth time, hoping that saying the words again and again would magically lead to a revelation and a solution to this problem. Needless to say, it didn't and all it achieved was agitating him even more as he kept pacing around.

Changbin simply let him be, as this seemed to be the most effective tactic to get him to calm down, and flipped through his textbook as if he was actually going to prepare himself for the semi important test on metabolism he had this Friday.

He loved his major, he really did, but he could absolutely do without all these stupid tests that did nothing but drag his overall score down because even though he could understand shit just fine, he couldn't put the shit into words on paper.

Which was hysterical, considering he was known as the greatest lyricist on campus.

The title was pretentious and better off with Jisung, the _actual_ lyrical genius who could seemingly produce songs out of thin air in the span of fifteen minutes, but the boy knew to hide his talents from the rest of the students, so he was mostly left out of their thinking when it came to things like these.

Why he didn't want to revel in other peoples' admiration and validation, Changbin couldn't completely get, however, he respected Jisung's wishes, so he refrained from bringing the younger's talent up around others.

They probably thought him to be some shy and reserved kid who was only in the group because he was close friends with him and Hyunjin, but Jisung was so much more than that.

He was special, in so many ways an irreplacable part of Changbin's life ever since the older had caught him in the science classroom, sitting in front of the fishtank as he scribbled lyrics down, the pages of his notebook painted in a picture of blue and black ink.

Back then he hadn't understood what was so special about the fishtank, but Jisung had made sure to regularly visit the classroom, always getting inspired by the thriving life behind the glass, and over time, as Changbin's curiosity had grown, he had decided to just go for it and ask.

_''Why are you always watching these fish?''_

Best decision he had ever made.

Jisung had given him a side glance, half surprised, half intrigued by his sudden appearance, before he had turned back to the tank, his finger tapping against the glass and startling a swarm of striped fish that hurried to seek shelter behind some rocks.

_''Those are called zebrafish. Want to watch them with me?''_

He hadn't gone into detail about why he was so fascinated by them, but Changbin hadn't pressed either and instead sat down beside Jisung, in equal parts following the fish with his eyes and admiring the boy next to him who was so absorbed in writing that he didn't seem to notice.

Jisung was a strange one.

He could get caught up in all the little things in life, appreciating a couple of fish or stopping on his way home to smell a flower, but his beautiful and insightful lyrics showed that there was a world in his head that Changbin couldn't even begin to understand, a world that was so big that it surpassed his imagination.

He wouldn't be able to describe it if he tried, but there was something inherently precious about Jisung, in the way he smiled at everything and everyone like he truly enjoyed life, in the way he was always the first to help when one of his friends were in need of it, in the way his mere presence just gave off that natural charm Changbin would have killed for to have.

He wanted to protect the boy. That smile. All of his smiles.

The shy one. The embarrassed one. The bright one. The cheeky one.

The-

Before he could continue with that train of thought, the sound of joyful laughter from the hallway brought him back to reality, and he saw Hyunjin stopping his pacing, obviously also recognizing the noise.

''Finally, he was taking forever.''

He went to let the boy in, but Jisung beat him to it, pushing the door open with such an energetic movement that it almost hit Hyunjin straight in the face, the boy only barely managing to stumble back in surprise.

''It's out! It's finally out!''

Jisung wasn't even through the door yet, but Changbin immediately knew what was up when his gaze landed on the two bags the younger was carrying and the smile of pure delight on his face as he rushed straight to the TV in the room.

What else could have Jisung this excited?

''The album is out! It's finally out, it's finally there and oh my god... Hyung, Hyunjin, it's _beautiful!_ ''

And there went any hope of them actually getting something done today.

Changbin sighed internally, but couldn't help the smile that slipped on his face as Jisung rummaged through one of the seemingly very full bags, pulling out an orange and blue colored album and flipping through it until he found a signed disk at the very back, most likely a DVD that had come with the album.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but succumbed to his fate anyway, plopping down next to Jisung while the younger was trying to figure out how and where to put the disk and after a few more seconds, Changbin joined his group on the floor.

The creative room did have a comfortable couch, yet he figured he wouldn't be able to get Jisung to move even if he tried, so the floor it was.

He reached into one of the bags to see what else was in there, yet only pulled out the same album that currently lay in front of Jisung, an exact replica of what he already had and frankly, quite unnecessary, but he wouldn't put it past the younger to buy an album for his friends too even if they didn't really need it.

''What the hell, Jisung?'', Hyunjin exclaimed, having pulled about five other copies from the other bag and looking them over with an expression of utter incredulity on his face. ''How many copies of the album did you buy?''

Jisung chuckled nervously. ''That's the thing... I kinda bought out the store.''

Yeah, that sounded like him.

Jisung tended to get overexcited when one of his favorite artists released a new album and more often than not, Changbin had to drag him out of his favorite Kpop store before it got out of hand. Like it had this time.

Honestly, the owner of that tiny establishment that lay hidden away in some back alley had dollar signs in his eyes whenever he saw the younger step into the store.

''Why on earth would you do that?''

Hyunjin reached into the bag once more, pulling out more copies, this time in a slightly different color, but still undoubtedly the same album.

Changbin already felt sorry for Jisung's bank account.

''Because!'', the boy exclaimed loudly, giving the word a dramatic emphasis as he looked at both Hyunjin and him, making sure to keep his expression as serious as possible. ''I, my friends, am a fucking gay mess and really fucking in love with Lee Know.''

''We been knew'', Hyunjin scoffed playfully, reaching for the remote that had been tossed all the way across the room by the last people to have occupied the creative room, probably out of frustration after watching a movie or something.

These rooms weren't really meant for that sort of leisure activity, but no one on campus cared, using the creative space for movie nights, ditching class and, in rare cases, sex.

''I also have no self-control when Changbin hyung isn't there'', Jisung added as an afterthought, taking the remote from Hyunjin and turning the TV on. ''But I wasn't gonna wait two hours for your asses to finish class, I needed the album!''

The screen flickered to life and immediately, the company name _Starlight Entertainment_ appeared in the middle, the dots on both i's replaced with stars that had trails of lights following it.

The logo disappeared after a few seconds and a white room faded in, completely bare save for a table and a chair that were set up right in front of the camera.

As if knowing what would happen, Jisung all but plastered himself to the screen, almost completely blocking Changbin's view of it. Not that he particularly minded.

He could appreciate a steady vocal or a powerful rap, which more often than not was exactly what Lee Know delivered, but sometimes, he couldn't help but be a little annoyed at Jisung's constant fanboying.

It was especially bad when Changbin wanted to change some lyrics for one of their songs or revise a tune and the younger wasn't paying attention because he was too busy fawning over Lee Know, taking one of the endless _Where would Lee Know take you on your first date?_ quizzes that had flooded the internet or play his songs at a volume that was so obnoxiously high that Changbin couldn't hear his own thoughts anymore.

Jisung was a strange one. Changbin loved him anyway.

_''1,2. Step out! Hello, I'm Lee Know!''_

Lee Know had appeared on the screen, wearing a completely white outfit that blended in perfectly with the equally white walls behind him, only his black hair with orange colored highlights and his grey contacts serving as a speck of color in his strangely sterile looking surroundings.

It was weirdly unsettling, but Jisung didn't seem to think so, instead turning the volume on his remote up to understand the idol's charming and smooth voice even better.

_''Thank you for supporting me by purchasing 'Sunlight', my fourth studio album. This version is the Golden Hour version, so how about we change the scenery here a little, Han?''_

Even though Changbin knew _Han_ was simply Lee Know's fanbase name, it was always a little awkward when Jisung was in the same room, nodding as if the question had been posed only to him.

Lee Know went offscreen for a short while, probably to adjust the lighting because suddenly, a warm golden glow started bathing the room, making it feel all friendly and cozy despite the lack of furniture.

''That's so cool! Did you guys see that?? Did you?''

''What, the change of lighting?'', Hyunjin commented dryly. ''Yeah, Sung, real impressive indeed.''

Lee Know returned to his place on the chair, folding his arms and placing them on the table, and even if it was brief, Changbin managed to catch a flash of _something_ on his right hand before the sleeve of his pullover hid it from sight again.

For a moment, he considered asking Jisung to rewind the video a few seconds so he could have a better look at it, but the moment came and went and Jisung was screeching again, so he dropped the matter.

_''Looks nice, huh? The golden hour is the period of daytime shortly after sunrise or before sunset during which sunlight is redder and softer than when the sun is high in the sky.''_

Changbin found it safe to start zoning out at this point, not really interested as the idol listed off what he liked about golden hour and why he had chosen it as the theme of his album, and he could tell Hyunjin shared that sentiment as he played around with his phone, making sure to do it secretly so Jisung still thought he was paying attention.

By the time Lee Know had finished explaining the general concept of his comeback and was instead going over all the deleted songs that hadn't made the final cut, Hyunjin wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore, tapping relentlessly on his phone screen as if he was writing a very angry text to someone, but Jisung was too occupied with keeping the rhythm during the little karaoke session that was included in the video to notice anything else.

Changbin leaned over, trying to decipher what exactly was up with Hyunjin and maybe even make a playful comment about the younger never being so enthusiastic when texting him, but one look at the screen had the words dying in his throat.

There was a picture of a crime scene, if the blood and police markings were anything to go about, though he only got a short glance at it before Hyunjin sent his monster of a text and locked his phone, obviously tense and jumpy about what he had seen.

In an attempt at comfort, Changbin placed a hand on his thigh, knowing how Hyunjin could get when he was agitated and from the way the younger barely reacted he could tell that they should both step outside for a bit.

They didn't bother informing Jisung and just straight up ditched him in favor of getting some fresh air and maybe stop at the convenience store as well to get some snacks.

Sure, it was kinda a dick move, but then again, if Jisung was going to put them through the misery that was watching the various specialized versions of this DVD, they were very well allowed to take a short break inbetween.

Besides, Jisung wouldn't even notice their short absence with the way he was mindlessly rambling to himself, hyperfixating on the screen as if it held the answers to life, the universe and everything.

He'd be fine on his own for a few minutes.

''They found his body.''

Hyunjin brought it up as soon as they left campus, his voice sounding aloof and strained as his eyes kept darting towards the screen of his phone, hoping for any sort of update regarding the question he had most certainly posed to his mentor.

The guy was a police officer who cooperated with the criminology class at university and Hyunjin had taken a liking to him pretty much the first time he had stepped into their classroom to educate them about Computer Crimes.

Changbin hadn't seen it for himself, but according to Hyunjin's classmates, the boy had quite openly stared at the handsome male all throughout the presentation, almost hanging on his lips as the officer had rattled off the risk factors in computer crime victimization, as well as cyberstalking victimization among college students.

Park Jinyoung, if he recalled correctly.

For weeks upon weeks, he would be all Hyunjin talked about, both parts pining and idolizing the guy without actually ever talking to him, so Changbin had fixed the situation for him by asking around for Jinyoung's number and making Hyunjin text the older male.

And low and behold, the two of them had started hanging out and conversed about their love for criminology and their lives and hobbies, discovering that they indeed had a teeny tiny crush on each other.

Not that anything ever became of it, after all, Jinyoung wanted to keep his position as deputy police chief and Hyunjin wasn't ready yet to commit to anything that went beyond a simple fling, so instead of a relationship, a mentor-apprentice dynamic had formed between them.

Jinyoung taught Hyunjin some practical knowledge, as opposed to only having the theoretical lessons to go off, and Hyunjin regularly inspected crime scenes with the male or made control walks through prison, despite it not being _perfectly_ legal.

They always lied their way around the higher-ups somehow and even though said higher-ups probably knew what Jinyoung was doing by now, they let him be because Hyunjin was actually a tremendous help in unveiling hidden clues and piecing things together from a different angle.

There used to be a killer on the loose who faked his victims' deaths to look like suicides and left corresponding suicide notes, but Hyunjin had compared the victims' handwriting to that of the killer who had imitated the handwriting, noticing all the little flaws that didn't look quite as natural and hence, exposing the suicides as murders.

Another case had been with missing murder weapons, all of which the younger had discovered by studying the killer's habits and favorite places extensively and yet another mystery had involved murders happening at specific locations, also exposed by Hyunjin through research.

If anything didn't add up, Hyunjin was the expert to call.

''Whose body?'', Changbin inquired, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans as the wind picked up and made him realize that it was still the middle of winter.

Hyunjin gave him a meaningful side glance.

''Choi Beomgyu. From TXT.''

Beomgyu.

The boy had been all over the news a few weeks back, apparently having been snatched from the dorm in the early morning, his fellow member Taehyun able to recall a scream from their kitchen before a horrible crash had roused the rest of the members.

They hadn't been able to get to him in time, the broken French window a proof of their failure, and the group had nearly fallen apart due to the absence of their cheerful mood maker, but Soobin had pushed for them to hold on a little while longer. If not for the group, then for Beomgyu.

Changbin guessed they would break apart for real now that the boy's body had been found.

He didn't think such a young group would be able to withstand something this terrific so early on in their career.

''When did they find him?''

''About half an hour ago. A civilian called the police because he found a barely breathing boy in the forest'', he gave a nod towards the general direction of the forest, ''so Jinyoung rushed over while instructing the civilian to try and keep the boy alive.''

He paused for a moment when they reached their destination, a simple and tiny convenience store that survived mostly off the students attending university.

There were only a small amount of people roaming around the place though, so he found it safe to continue his report, although in a hushed voice that had Changbin straining to make him out over the melody of _Love Battery_ that was blasting at full volume from the speakers.

''It seems like the people who abducted Beomgyu were planning on selling him, but dropped that idea when he fought too hard and stabbed him, leaving him to bleed out. They also cut out his tongue and Jinyoung said it was a wonder Beomgyu was even alive when he got to him because the boy seemed to have been there for a while already. He was still breathing, but he died on the way to the hospital.''

That was awful.

He couldn't imagine what must have gone through Beomgyu's head, having help just within arms reach, but succumbing to his wounds anyway.

Had he been disappointed that Jinyoung hadn't come for him sooner?

Had he been relieved that the cruel torture he must have been put through was finally over?

Had he regretted leaving his bandmates behind? His family?

Changbin was silent as he treaded through the colorful aisles, the store bustling with the lives of people going about their day, their laughter as they told jokes to each other, their everyday stories they shared with their friends, their content silence and quiet humming, everything that was them.

They had not yet been informed of the poor soul that had been diminished to nothing more than a memory in the matter of weeks.

Changbin didn't know why it stung when he wasn't involved with the boy in any way, but fact was, it _stung_. A lot.

''Any leads about the killer?''

He could imagine that if there was at least justice for the band, it would already take some of their pain away, but judging by the distant look in Hyunjin's eyes as he scanned the shelves for some snacks, it wasn't exactly likely.

''Jinyoung did find something at the crime scene'', he started, but broke off again when a boy joined them in their aisle, squinting at the rows of snacks as he decided what he wanted to get.

He looked fairly young, shyly keeping his head down as if he didn't want to be noticed, but it was kinda pointless because his pastel pink hair naturally drew Changbin's gaze to him and he seemed to realize this, hurrying to grab the first thing he could reach, cheese sticks, and rushing past them.

Weird kid.

Probably way too sleep-deprived and way too stressed to be dealing with social interaction right now. Changbin could relate.

Hyunjin followed the boy with his eyes until he disappeared into the next aisle, then shook his head and grabbed some cheese sticks as well, just for the heck of it.

''He found a watch that the murderer apparently wore. Beomgyu managed to break it during his struggle.''

At least something. It wasn't much, but maybe it would help track the killer down anyway.

''What watch?'', he asked, not even knowing why he did because it was really the least concern right now.

Maybe he just wanted to keep the conversation going.

Maybe he wanted to know as much as possible about the crime, remember every gory detail just to pay tribute to Beomgyu and his last effort that could enable them to catch a killer on the loose.

''Jinyoung sent me a picture, hang on...''

Hyunjin pulled his phone out, scrolling through the chat with Jinyoung in search for the picture and Changbin averted his gaze out of politeness, accidentally making eye contact with the same boy from a minute earlier.

He was just standing at the end of the aisle, creepily watching them as he cradled his cheese sticks close, not showing any kind of embarassment from having gotten caught staring as he slightly cocked his head, the faintest trace of a smile playing on his lips.

Changbin was confused about that rather sinister and dangerous aura that surrounded the boy, but he was even more confused when it abruptly shifted into an aura of vulnerability and hesitation before the boy turned and disappeared around a corner.

Again, weird kid.

''What a cutie'', Hyunjin quietly laughed to himself, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. ''If he wanted to look at this fine piece of art longer, he should have just gone for it.''

Changbin raised a brow, but decided not to comment, instead focusing on the picture Hyunjin had whipped up.

It wasn't too graphic, just lots of blood on the ground, an outline where the body had been and a bag with the watch in it.

The leather wristband was broken, as was the display, but what really got Changbin's attention was the design which had the numbers replaced by different chess pieces, the word _Checkmate_ right beneath the king who served as 12.

An odd design, but unique nonetheless, most likely even a custom product.

Perfect to track down.

As he was busy inspecting the watch, he heard Hyunjin chuckle again in amusement, probably because the kid had re-appeared somewhere again.

It was suspicious that the boy had taken such an abrupt interest in them and even more suspicious that he kept staring and listening in on their conversation, but if Hyunjin was worried about that, he sure hid it very well, blatantly looking back with misplaced curiosity and interest of his own.

Only he could go from talking seriously about a murder to checking out strangers in the convenience store in less than two seconds. Really said a lot about him as a person.

''He's cute.''

And his weird taste, seeing how he was probably the only person who called potential stalkers _cute_.

''He's creepy'', Changbin mumbled, earning himself a playful, yet still harsh slap on the arm that almost had him hissing at his younger friend.

''He's just a little shy, don't be mean.''

Somehow, Changbin doubted that, but he kept his mouth shut, merely rolling his eyes as he tugged Hyunjin with him towards the checkout, exactly the opposite direction of the boy, to finally pay for the snacks.

They'd spent way too much time here already and he was really itching to at least get one verse done today, even if he knew how unlikely that was with Jisung being in his fanboyish state.

Hyunjin turned around once more to give a tiny wave and a finger heart to the stranger that was still watching them for whatever reason he might have, but Changbin let him.

It wasn't like they would be seeing this kid again anyway.

Oh, how wrong he was.

How dangerously wrong.


	12. [White Pawn]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first anniversary, Bine! 
> 
> This past year with you is something I'll treasure forever and I hope we can continue to make plenty of precious memories in the future <3 
> 
> Reminder: This chapter is **still** set in the past.

_**> >System Log Not Found<<** _

_**Logging interrupted, Log not found.** _

His steps echoed eerily in the deathly quiet hallway, the weak sunlight that poured in through the barren windows doing nothing to warm his body as he passed yet another row of cells.

It was barely past four in the morning, so the inmates were all still sleeping, curled up on their beds, only their calm breathing filtering through the air, and Hyunjin sleepily let his gaze trail over them, more fazed by his lack of sleep from the previous night than the fact that he was merely a few steps away from dangerous criminals.

The higher-ups said all the time that patrolling the halls wasn't something a student should be subjected to, but Hyunjin actually found these morning walks quite relaxing, even more so when he ran low on inspiration on his mandatory essays or lyrics for 3racha.

There was just something about this place that spiked his imagination and he could get lost wandering through the hallways, taking in all these different people, wondering what had driven them to a life of crime and imagining himself in their place, trying to understand what it would feel like to be locked up like this.

It was a morbid curiosity, but the lyrics it produced were delicate like drops of morning dew on grass, the truest reflection of himself put into words.

Melancholy was almost always a companion on these morning walks around the facility, as was loneliness, however, at this point he enjoyed the tranquil atmosphere, deeming it a welcome change from the bustling and hectic school life at university.

He knew the higher-ups only tolerated him within the prison because of him volunteering to take over these morning rounds for them, but frankly, he didn't get why they disliked them so much in the first place.

Sure, he had to get up early to catch the bus that brought him here and sure, not a lot of interesting stuff happened during these hours, but in exchange he got to see the criminals' raw and vulnerable selves, their very core and personality as he strode past them, hearing them call out weakly for family members or apologize to friends for disappointing them.

And in those moments, Hyunjin felt pity.

Despite knowing every single person in here had a very legitimate reason to be locked up, despite his nature that drove him to bring justice wherever he could, he felt sorry for these misguided souls.

Jinyoung always said it was vital to have empathy in his job, to not lose sight of the fact that these people deserved a certain level of respect too, just like everyone else, but he always warned Hyunjin not to get attached because the moment these criminals had him in their hands, they would take advantage of it.

Not that it was necessary for Jinyoung to recite things that Hyunjin already knew about and had no intention of letting happen, but it was nice that his mentor cared.

Having reached the end of the hallway, he pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door that led to another hallway, letting it fall into place behind him with a silent click.

Some officers liked to slam the doors every chance they could get, but Hyunjin saw no point in violently rousing the inmates from the only safe place they had, so he was careful with everything he did.

The new hallway that stretched out in front of him was for the new inmates, located further into the building and painted a brighter color than the rest to slowly get the newbies used to their foreign situation while keeping their surroundings friendly to not panic them.

Some of the people in here were innocent and Hyunjin didn't mean to brag, but he could usually make an accurate guess as to who belonged here and who didn't by merely watching their sleeping faces for a short while.

The first cell to his right contained a black haired male, probably in his mid twenties, lying face up on his bed and cradling a bandaged hand to his chest as pained moans left his lips.

He wasn't sleeping, just in a vague state of not being able to make out much due to the drugs he had been given the previous day, but Hyunjin could immediately tell that he was one of the people who belonged here.

Jinyoung had brought him in roughly two and a half days ago in a middle-of-the-night-operation over at the bank and Hyunjin had just so happened to be at the station this time around for an interview with the Chief of Police, so he had witnessed the distressed call from a civilian first hand.

This guy had been wanted by the police for a long time for his alleged connections to an underground human trafficking organization, but for some reason he had always been able to slip through their fingers. Until now.

The male tossed around on his bed, coming to rest on his side, and Hyunjin could see his eyes open for a short second, not really focusing on anything before fluttering shut again, a tired sigh escaping him.

''Mark...''

Mark? Who was Mark?

He didn't know anything about someone called Mark being arrested as of late, so he was most likely an accomplice of this man who was still roaming around freely.

Valuable information.

Hyunjin made a mental note of that and moved on to the next cells, not surprised when most of the new inmates were still at least half awake.

He imagined they must have been too riled up and maybe even scared to properly settle down in a new environment like this, locked up with no real privacy and other people in clear earshot, but they would get used to it eventually. Everyone did.

And if they didn't, it was almost always because they were innocent.

However, all of the inmates on this hallway were criminals, so after a last rough scan, Hyunjin strode towards the door at the other end, already fumbling around for the key when he saw something pink move from the corner of his eyes.

He turned around, surprised to see the boy from the convenience store hunched over in the cell that was closest to the door, shaking and absolutely terrified as he kept his gaze on the floor.

Now, normally Hyunjin wouldn't even have to think twice about just letting the boy sulk and moving on with his little patrol, but today he hesitated, thrown off by the fact that he for once knew the person that was locked up here.

Well, not really, but he wasn't a complete stranger at least, not like all the other inmates whom he had never seen before.

This was different.

And Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn't the tiniest bit unsettled that the kid he had written off as harmless mere days ago was now sitting in a cell in front of him, only thin bars separating him from what could very well be an unstable and violent criminal.

The thought that he had perhaps walked past a murderer, thief, drug dealer or _whatever_ and hadn't even noticed was ridiculous to him, especially since he always prided himself on his accurate intuition, and his mind made its conclusion so abruptly that he physically jolted.

The boy was innocent.

No if's and but's. He was innocent.

Hyunjin refused to believe he wouldn't recognize a criminal on the street, not with the amount of time he spent researching about offender characteristics, reading up all kinds of tactics used by criminals, even attending psychology lectures so he could get a better understanding of the human psyche.

There was no way he was wrong on this.

''What are you in for?'', he heard himself asking, not really realizing the words until they were out and the boy met his gaze, cheeks puffy and eyes red from crying.

Such a display of vulnerability couldn't stem from a criminal.

He was innocent.

It took a second for the younger to reply as he tried to judge whether Hyunjin meant any harm, but in the end he managed to stutter out ''Choi Beomgyu'' with a voice that was so unstable that Hyunjin was surprised it didn't crack halfway through.

Beomgyu.

His mind flashed back to the body, the state it had been in, the amount of blood they had found at the crime scene, as opposed to the boy's clean appearance in the store.

There had not been a sprinkle of crimson on him, and while he was aware that the boy could have simply washed it off, his mind was insistent on replaying the word _innocent_ in his head like a mantra.

Innocent. Innocent.

This boy was innocent.

''You didn't do it.''

There was no hesitance in his voice, for he knew it was the truth, and the boy's face lit up in relief as he nodded fervently, a suspicious wetness forming in his eyes.

''I didn't...'', he repeated, shivering as if he was freezing cold in the chilly air of the hallway. ''I _didn't_. I was framed.''

He gripped the bars of his cells in desperation and Hyunjin couldn't help but feel bad for him to be thrown into such a cruel situation, especially at such a young age.

He knew Jinyoung would release the boy eventually once it was confirmed that he didn't have anything to do with the murder, but until then, days or maybe even weeks could pass, depending on how busy his mentor was.

Hyunjin crouched down in front of the cell, carefully reaching out to caress the boy's hand in an attempt to comfort him which seemed to work because the younger eased up, closing his eyes for a moment to revel in the touch and burn it into his memory.

He really did look gorgeous like this, adorable baby cheeks that were made to be squished and pretty brown eyes, as well as that cutesy pastel colored hair that Hyunjin really wanted to run his fingers through and the fluffy white hoodie he had been wearing back at the convenience store.

God, the boy looked like straight up boyfriend material and the fact that he had been wrongfully put behind bars was irritating.

Jinyoung normally did such a good job chasing down the bad guys, what had happened this time?

This couldn't be Choi Beomgyu's killer, it was just an innocent bystander who had gotten mixed up into this, possibly even through a case of _wrong place at the wrong time_.

''I promise you'll be released soon. We'll find the killer.''

He squeezed the boy's hand to solidify the promise before straightening up and turning away, suddenly becoming aware that he had already lingered here far too long.

''Wait!'', the boy called for him and Hyunjin glanced at him over his shoulder, noticing that he seemed a little more relaxed than before, even though he was biting his lip in thought, fingers absentmindedly picking at the material of his hoodie as if he wanted to ask something, but didn't dare speak up.

He really was a shy one. Hyunjin didn't mind.

''Is there... something you need?'', he asked helpfully, watching the boy nod faintly as he collected his thoughts and how to voice them. Endearing.

''There's these flowers in the garden'', the younger started, almost too quiet to be made out if it weren't for the fact that it was still deathly silent in the hallway. ''I saw them when I was brought in and I... I really liked them.''

A smile appeared on his face and in response, Hyunjin's heart fluttered, having not been prepared for such a sudden and pure, admittedly very random, request.

''They're purple and so pretty and I was wondering...''

Those doe eyes held so much hope and innocence as they looked at him expectantly, so who was Hyunjin to deny the boy this small request?

Any tiny amount of peace he could give the prisoners here was welcome and it was barely any effort anyway.

''Okay. I'll bring them tomorrow.''

The next day was a Saturday, meaning the inmates who had been here for longer had their days off and were mostly out of their cells to tend to their visitors, participate in special events or watch TV in one of the many common rooms with other inmates.

Hyunjin was normally not on duty on weekends – well, he rarely was anyway since he didn't want to push his luck with the higher ups – yet he was fully aware of the few officers who'd much rather stay at home on weekends instead of meeting their obligations, so it was no problem at all to persuade one of them to give up his shift for him.

Even if it sounded irresponsible to let a mere student wander around a place filled with roaming criminals, Hyunjin was absolutely certain that he was capable of defending himself and something about that confidence seemed to convince people that he knew what he was doing.

Which he didn't _exactly_ , but it wasn't dramatic.

He wasn't alone in the building, there were people doing paperwork in their offices, guards at the entrance, patrolling officers in other parts of the facility and plenty of weapons at his disposal to defend himself with in case someone insisted on lashing out at him or things turned awry otherwise.

Handcuffs and taser were an absolute necessity and as soon as his eighteenth birthday came around, Jinyoung would probably push for him to get a license to carry firearms too, but up until now, Hyunjin had always declined the offer, feeling unsettled at the thought of being able to use actual guns and rifles like they did in movies.

A weapon to take someone's life away was no joke and at this point in time, he felt too burdened by the harm he could theoretically bring over other people to even consider touching anything of that sort.

He knew he was gonna have to get over that sentiment eventually if he really strived to pursue a career in the field of crime fighting, but for now, he was content with having his meekly taser as he made his round through the west sector, leaving the hallway with the new inmates for last, the pretty purple flower stuffed into the pocket of his jeans.

As expected, the boy was still in his cell, still in the same fluffy hoodie that made Hyunjin want to cuddle him and still looking sad, understandably, though the frown slipped off his face the second he noticed a shadow casting over him, replaced by an adorable spark in his eyes as he looked up at Hyunjin.

''Hey, you came back!''

''Of course I did'', he chuckled, dropping down in front of the bars to really take in the boy's appearance, starting from the messy and tousled pink hair to patches of dirt on his neck that had stained his white hoodie.

Now that he'd seemed to have gotten a good night's rest, his cheeks weren't as puffed anymore and some color had returned to his face, further emphasizing how pretty he was.

A caged butterfly with torn wings, delicate to the touch but so tempting to feel flutter beneath his fingers.

He didn't belong in this place.

Jinyoung made a mistake locking such a sprouting and thriving flower away and Hyunjin would make sure that he was released as soon as possible.

The boy scooted closer to the bars, his hopeful gaze following Hyunjin's movement as he produced the flower from his pocket, slightly damaged, yet losing nothing of its beauty.

''One delivery for you.''

He passed the flower to the boy who giggled cutely before plucking off one of the blossoms to place them into his hair.

Hyunjin's heart did a strange jump in his chest and then one more when the younger male gave him one of the blossoms as well, urging him to put it into his hair too so they could have a matching look.

It was such a pure request once more, so how could he say no?

''You look pretty like this'', he laughed and Hyunjin had to try very hard to keep a compliment of his own in, not wanting the other inmates to hear what they were talking about and making fun of him for taking a liking to this boy.

''Should we talk somewhere else?''

He didn't know why he suggested it when Jinyoung had oh so explicitly told him never to get too friendly with the inmates, but once the words were out, he couldn't take them back anymore as the boy brightened up at the prospect of stepping out of his suffocating cell for a while.

It was as if the sun had risen in his eyes, his whole being glowing and practically vibrating with excitement, and Hyunjin found himself reaching for the universal key he carried before he was aware of it.

The light jingle of the keys on his key ring was the equivalent of a student opening up a pack of gum in class, the inmates all instantly plastering themselves to the bars of their cells, hungry gazes never leaving the object of their desire.

Especially that one guy from yesterday, the one who had called out for some _Mark_ person was regarding the key with urgency, knuckles white as he gripped the bars tightly, and if Hyunjin wasn't tripping, he actually heard the older male let out something that sounded like a legitimate _growl_.

This one was dangerous and he didn't like it, so he focused his attention on the boy again who sat patiently in his cell, not unlike a puppy waiting to be taken out for a walk.

One time wouldn't hurt, right?

Reluctantly, he opened the door, almost expecting himself to get tackled to the floor in an instant, however, all the boy did was step out with a bright smile and offer his hands in order to ease Hyunjin's nervousness.

''You can handcuff me if you're scared. It's alright.''

Hyunjin was almost ashamed how quickly he reached for his handcuffs, wanting to have at least some sort of security as he tightened them around the kid's wrist.

The other inmates scoffed in disappointment at the lack of action at such a perfect opportunity to break out, but Hyunjin was glad that the boy hadn't tried anything since he hadn't even accounted for that in his imagination anyway.

He was letting his guard down already and in any other situation he would have been terrified at the revelation, but as he met the boy's gentle gaze and felt his fingers reassuringly squeeze his own, he couldn't help but think that he had done the right thing.

Since there were plenty of guards at all the main entrances and he wanted to avoid any probing questions aimed at why he was taking a prisoner outside, he led the boy towards one of the side entrances that the guards typically used for a smoking break, careful that there was no one around before opening the door and ushering the other male out.

The weather outside was really nice.

It was early in the afternoon, the sun at its highest point in the sky and exerting the beauty of thousands of dew droplets spread out over the grass, all of them sparkling and glittering as if they were something magical.

Personally, Hyunjin found it a little annoying since it meant he couldn't sit down on the grass without getting his clothes wet, yet the boy seemed to disagree and threw himself into the field anyway, laughing as he rolled around on the ground.

''That feels amazing!''

Hyunjin snickered to himself, but dropped down as well, trying to ignore the disgusting wetness in favor of watching the boy enjoy himself.

They were on some sort of meadow behind the prison, fenced off from the rest of the facility and rather deserted, so it was the perfect spot to have some alone time to sunbathe.

Or roll around on the grass, he guessed.

The boy did it so enthusiastically even with his hands tied in front of him, even with all the dirt he was getting on his white hoodie, even in this situation, with him being locked up and accused of a crime he hadn't committed, and Hyunjin admired his positive outlook on life.

''Oh, by the way!'', the boy piqued up, having difficulties to push himself up on his own. ''You haven't told me your name yet!''

''It's Hyunjin'', he replied, leaving the boy struggling for a few seconds longer with an amused grin before he decided to help him up into a sitting position. ''And what's-''

He was interrupted before he could finish posing his question as the younger suddenly decided to throw himself at him, staining his clothes and causing Hyunjin to fall backwards into the grass, the boy half on top of him, smiling down at him amusedly.

''Hyunjin? That's a pretty name.''

Hyunjin was pretty sure his heart was trying to escape his body at this point, the rapid rhythm thumping in his temples and drowning everything around them out, creating a space where only him and the boy existed.

A space where only the soft fluttering of his beautiful strands mattered and the way he was lying half on top of him and the way warmth radiated off him in waves, seeping right into Hyunjin's skin. He liked this space.

''Is your last name pretty too?''

A soft touch ghosted over his collarbone and he shivered, feeling strangely pinned down and captured despite the boy being the one in handcuffs.

''Hwang'', he whispered, too drawn in by the smile he was being graced with to notice the little flicker in the younger's eyes. His mouth had suddenly gone dry and he didn't even know why. ''And what about--''

''Pretty. So pretty, hyung.''

Skipping right to _hyung_ felt weird, but he didn't ponder it too much and instead enjoyed the way the word fell from the boy's lips like honey.

He'd never been hyung to anyone, so hearing it now was a new and honestly kinda alluring experience and the other male seemed to realize that as he nuzzled his head into Hyunjin's chest the way a cat would.

''Hyung'', he drawled out, fingers idly drawing circles on his neck. ''Hyung, please tell me more about yourself. Where do you live? What are your interests? I'm curious.''

Hyunjin wanted to resist.

Jinyoung had scolded him a while back for mindlessly sharing information about himself in front of criminals when one of the men had asked about his relationship status – single as a pringle – and if he'd ever have a chance with a god such as Hyunjin – maybe for a night –, but this time it should be okay because the boy was no criminal.

Just an innocent kid.

He felt his resolve melting away under the teasing touch that wandered from his neck all the way down to the side of his hip, his skin on fire even through the material of his pullover.

Resisting was not an option.

''I live in the outskirts of Seoul, one of those parts that have this rural flair about them, with lots of parks and forests nearby. It's pretty and homey, but the bus connections there are honestly horrible.''

He broke off to let out a chuckle, noticing how the boy seemed to be listening intently, savoring every little detail Hyunjin gave him.

It was equal parts worrying and flattering, but he kept going anyway.

''My interests are dancing, music in general and criminology and I'm currently studying at Seoul National University. I come to the prison every now and then to help out with shifts, but that's only volunteer work, ergo no money for me.''

He paused, watching the mop of pink hair on his chest move up and down in time with his heartbeat. Should he continue? Was he oversharing?

''What about your friends, hyung? Would they miss you if you were gone?''

Would they--...

He hadn't quite registered the words yet as his body made an attempt to jerk up, disturbed and scared by the sudden question that wasn't suited for their current situation, but the boy pinned him down with his weight, obviously on the fit side despite his stature as he made sure that Hyunjin stayed where he was.

''I'm just playing'', he assured, laughing in a heartfelt way that had the older melting as he settled back down against the grass, chastising himself for his jumpy nature.

Couldn't he take a joke anymore?

He thought he was quite accustomed to dark humor and misplaced jokes, Changbin more often than not using every opportunity to demonstrate it to him, but something about the boy's voice, about the way his eyes shone so mischievously, had him on edge.

He was playing, alright, but Hyunjin was unsure _what_ game in particular this was and if he wanted to participate.

''Oh, relax, no reason to look at me so suspiciously'', the boy huffed, poking at Hyunjin's chest. ''You have my word that I'm not a serial killer or whatever.''

''Prove it.''

The boy abruptly broke into another laugh, cheerful and way too contagious for Hyunjin not to join in.

''Well, have I stabbed you? I don't think so.''

''Too bad, there would have been a fifty percent chance of me liking it'', Hyunjin joked with a wink, his mind replaying the various bedroom adventures he had engaged in with his partners, a fair amount of them involving experiments with blood and sharp objects, something that had come to be rather pleasurable for him.

He wouldn't call himself a masochist by any means, just someone who was very accepting of others' kinks and enjoyed being dominated in whichever way his partner saw fitting.

It wasn't safe sex, but it was consensual and he wasn't someone who liked _safe_ that much anyway, a fact that was apparent by his choice of occupation.

''Interesting.''

There was a flash of _something_ in the boy's eyes, the shadow of an emotion too fleeting to grasp, but the next second, he was back to innocent, his fingers drawing patterns on Hyunjin's chest as he steered their conversation back to where it had been going _originally._

''But really, what about your friends? Do you guys hang out a lot?''

A smile tugged at the corners of Hyunjin's mouth as he thought of his friends, of Changbin and Jisung, and he unconsciously brought a hand up to ruffle through the boy's hair lovingly, too lost in memories to remember that this wasn't an old friend relaxing on his chest but a complete stranger.

''Well, I wouldn't say a lot, but we try. My closest friends are Changbin hyung and Jisung. We go to the same university, but Jisung is a music major and Changbin is a biochemistry major, so we're all relatively busy and don't see each other much. We make sure to meet up once a week to produce music together and once we have some more songs, we're going to compile them into an album and make some sweet cash.''

A content hum came from his chest, followed by a shy ''Can I listen to a song of yours?'' and Hyunjin was about to agree, yet thought better of it when he remembered that he shouldn't actually be out here with a prisoner in the first place.

He was really just begging for trouble and if he overstayed his welcome, this could end badly not only for him, but for Jinyoung as well who had given him permission to even be here in the first place.

''Maybe another time?'', he suggested, feeling the body on top of him visibly deflate in disappointment before ungracefully rolling off Hyunjin's chest and landing face down in the still very wet grass, the action actually causing the older to let out a chuckle.

''Help'', came the mumbled reply after a few seconds. ''I've fallen and I can't get up.''

''You gotta get up though, we need to head back.'' Hyunjin softly nudged him and the boy rolled on his back, hoodie completely stained by now and wet hair falling into his face.

He was... extremely pretty. Almost ethereal.

Seeing something so beautiful sprawled out on the ground like this really did a number on both his heart and head and he caught himself staring more openly than what was probably considered acceptable.

If the boy noticed, he didn't seem to mind though, his gaze scanning the sky as if he was searching for something.

''Hyung.''

Hyunjin looked up as well, the bright blue of the sky hurting his eyes, yet he wasn't able to see anything extraordinary up there.

''Yeah?''

''Can you take me here when the stars are out?''

Getting a prisoner out at nighttime was almost impossible with all the alarms and cameras, not to mention it wasn't worth the trouble they would be in if they were to be caught, but for some reason, Hyunjin was overcome with this need to make the boy happy whichever way he could and if that included taking him out to see the stars, so be it.

He only needed some time to figure out how he was going to do this.

''I can try'', he suggested, not really satisfied that those were the words he had to use, but not wanting to promise anything he couldn't fulfill.

''That would be great!''

The boy beamed at him, stars seeming to glitter in his eyes before he rolled on his side and painstakingly pushed himself up into a sitting position.

''Alright, let's go.''

Hyunjin was too distracted by the fluttering strands and the blissful smile he was being graced with to register the words and it took a long, embarrassing moment of him staring until the boy waved his hands in front of his face, snapping him out of his haze.

''Right, right, let's go'', he agreed hastily, trying to ignore the way the other's smile morphed into a playful grin as he straightened himself up and trailed back towards the prison, Hyunjin following not long after, willing the blood to stop rushing to his cheeks.

From there it basically became a tradition for Hyunjin to visit the boy every day after university, equal parts checking if there were any news regarding the killer and making sure the other ate regularly and didn't fall into a hole of loneliness.

As far as Hyunjin was aware, none of the boy's family members ever made the effort to come here and it saddened him to think that if it weren't for him, the poor soul would rot here all on his own.

He hadn't gotten to ask the boy for his name yet, neither why he had even been arrested in the first place since for some reason those particular pieces of information always fell short during their extended sessions of talking about anything and everything that had to do with Hyunjin himself, but he promised himself he would get around to it eventually.

He just didn't want to push the boy.

He still seemed nervous any time Hyunjin even scraped the topic, appalled and scared that he was the prime suspect for such a heinous crime, but they both knew beating around the bush wouldn't help anyone in the long run, so Hyunjin tried to be as gentle as possible with his prying when he did manage to bring up the murder.

It was only after a whole two weeks of no news, continued visits and reassurances that they were able to talk about the topic without the boy immediately diverting the attention elsewhere, but admittedly, it could have probably come under better circumstances.

''I really didn't commit the murder that day.''

Hyunjin almost didn't hear the boy's whispered proclamation as he was busy mixing the hair dye the boy had requested for him to bring with the developer cream that was included in the package.

He had no prior experience in this field, having always kept his hair at his natural black color, so when the younger had asked him if he could help him dye his hair from the fading pink it currently was to a vibrant red, Hyunjin nearly had a heart attack.

Still, to his credit, he hadn't backed away from the challenge, reading articles about the topic instead and asking his mother's friends all about what to pay attention to and how he should go about doing this before buying the dye and depositing the boy in the prison bathroom where the procedure was supposed to go down.

He was currently sitting on the toilet bowl, handcuffed hands in his lap and a towel around his shoulders as he watched Hyunjin stop his relentless stirring to look at him, a somber atmosphere suddenly descending on them.

''I know that.'' He shifted his weight and leaned against the sink, taking in his reflection in the mirror. ''But my question is why they accused you of it.''

He was fully convinced the boy would leave it at that and change the topic like he so often did when they were treading in these waters, so he continued preparing the dye, double-checking on the package if he was still doing everything correctly.

''You know who found the body?''

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. ''A civilian, wasn't it?''

''Yes, it was a civilian who saw me at the scene of the crime, which is why they were quick to point a finger at me when asked by the police if they had any suspicions about the murderer.''

Something about the phrasing felt off to Hyunjin in a very hidden kind of way and although he knew the boy wasn't the killer, he suddenly felt strangely on edge as he finished the mixing and carefully put the crappy gloves on that had been supplied in the box of dye to avoid getting anything on his hands.

''Why were you at the crime scene in the first place?''

He wasn't trying to accuse the boy, far from it, he just wanted to piece the story together.

There were a few moments of silence as Hyunjin moved over and started applying the dye, making sure to work it well into the boy's hair who hummed contentedly before remembering what they were talking about.

''I heard a scream from the forest, so I went to see what was going on, but there was this... this boy... and he had a knife...''

He nervously fidgeted with his hands, his expression losing a little of its composure, but Hyunjin tried to counter the scary memories that seemed to be bubbling up by gently massaging the boy's head, noticing the other pressing into his hand almost needily.

He had the sudden urge to move his hands down to caress the boy's neck, simply to try and see if he could get a reaction out of him, and before he could think better of it, there was a red streak on the other male's skin and he shivered in what Hyunjin interpreted as delight.

''Sorry'', he instantly apologized, heat rushing to his cheeks as he redirected his hands back to where they were supposed to be, silently cursing himself and his weird impulsive hormones.

He had _one_ opportunity to learn more about Beomgyu's murder, with the boy relaxed and comfortable enough to talk to him about it, and he just had to go and screw it up. What a massive creep he was.

He continued softly massaging the boy's scalp, trying hard not to breathe in the hydrogen peroxide from the dye since he didn't want it irritating his respiratory system, though he had to admit he wasn't _all_ focused on his work.

When he deemed it enough, he retracted his hands, looking over his work and the messy mop of hair with a satisfied smile as he tore his gloves off, tossing them to the side without giving them another glance.

''We'll have to wait a bit before rinsing it off'', he explained. ''Why don't you tell me a little more about the boy you saw?''

The boy turned to him, meeting his gaze, and there was a short mischievous flash in those pretty brown eyes before he reached up and tugged at Hyunjin's shirt, demanding him to get closer.

''Ah, Jinnie hyung'', something that sounded like a whine spilled from the boy's lips, ''I'll tell you in a minute, but can you touch me again please?''

Hyunjin almost choked on his saliva at the unexpected question and made an effort to back away, but was stopped by the boy's fingers tangling themselves into his shirt and the sudden haze that clouded his eyes.

His face was suspiciously red and if Hyunjin didn't know any better he would have thought the boy was actually _turned on,_ but he made sure to discard that assumption right away.

He hadn't actually done anything that warranted a reaction like this and there was no way a simple touch on the neck could provoke that kind of stimulation. Right?

''Touch'', came the whine again, more forceful this time, and the tug that came along with it was almost enough to make Hyunjin tumble into the boy, but he resisted as much as he could.

He knew he shouldn't.

He was already way too intimate with someone he shouldn't even associate with, criminal or not, and if things spiraled any further out of control, he feared he wouldn't be able to hold back at all.

His gaze met the boy's again, unsure eyes looking into hazy ones for a moment before a flash of annoyance appeared in the brown orbs in front of him, followed by frustration and, strangely enough, _lust._

''Touch me more, hyung.''

His voice was raspy, a hungry echo heating Hyunjin's body up more than he wanted to admit and in the matter of a few seconds, the boy had him pressed against the sink, his handcuffed hands not bothering him at all as he worked to get the first buttons of Hyunjin's button-down shirt open.

Hot.

The sudden display of dominance from what he had believed to be an innocent kid was really fucking hot, Hyunjin wasn't even going to lie.

He probably shouldn't indulge in the feeling of his head going light and the sweaty hands finding their way to his chest, but by god, it had been too long since his last fling and now that he had a three course meal right in front of him, he realized that he was absolutely _starved_ for any sexual interaction.

''Touch. Me.''

It was no longer a needy whine, but a straight up order and Hyunjin nodded obediently, no longer feeling like he could resist the waves of pleasure that started pulsing through his body or the heat that pooled in his stomach.

This opportunity was too precious to pass up on and the thought of getting absolutely _destroyed_ at the hands of this boy spurred him on even more to react to the other's advances and just _indulge_ before he went crazy.

Even if it was a terribly dangerous idea, bound to explode in his face, he didn't think he could possibly restrain the urges that took a hold of him, and in all honesty, there was a part of him that didn't _want_ to anyway.

There was a part that _wanted_ to play with fire, to feel what it was like to get burned, and yeah, okay, maybe he _was_ a bit of a masochist, but really, what was the worst that could happen?

He was in over his head.


	13. [Black ???]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I uploaded, but this fic has gone through a massive edit in September, introducing Mark from Got7 as a new character. 
> 
> This has no bearing on the plot, so please enjoy Divergent Chessboard as before.
> 
> *This chapter is still set in the past, from next chapter onwards we'll return to the present.

_**> >System Log Not Found<<** _

_**Logging interrupted, Log not found.** _

Jeongin knew exactly what he was doing.

Coercing Hyunjin into making out with him was not as much an act of lust as it was a tactic, another step in his plan that he had worked out from the very first second he had laid eyes on the older male.

He was a free, admittedly very handsome, ticket out of this place with just the right amount of naivety and stupidity to make for a nice toy to break.

And god, did he want to demolish that pretty face, belittle the boy for even believing for a second that he was an innocent soul wrongfully thrown into prison.

It was almost pathetic how easily Hyunjin bought into his act and if Jeongin hadn't been as glad that his plan was working out, he would have been offended that he'd gone through the effort of making up several _other_ plans in case his first one failed.

But it hadn't and now here he was, working down the buttons on Hyunjin's shirt at an agonizingly slow pace, watching the older squirm against the sink, unable to keep himself from getting _excited_ as his hands had found their way under Jeongin's hoodie – well, it was Hyunjin's hoodie actually, but this was no time to be nitpicky – , exploring the smooth skin there and tracing over the abs he had acquired through relentless training with Chan.

It wasn't uncomfortable per se to have someone touching him so intimately, quite the opposite actually, but it was nothing Jeongin could imagine losing his mind over. Not like Hyunjin at least.

''Fuck... I didn't think you'd be so ripped... That's hot...''

His voice was strained and just to keep up with his act, Jeongin moaned sultrily, throwing his head back as well for good measure and probably ejecting a fair amount of dye onto the white bathroom floors, but who cared about that right now?

Dyeing his hair hadn't been the goal that had driven him here in the first place, although he guessed it would be a nice bonus.

Speaking of nice bonus, as soon as Jeongin exposed his neck to the sexually famished mess in front of him, Hyunjin immediately latched onto it, trailing hot kisses over his skin while his hands settled on Jeongin's hips, pulling him closer to the older male with all the ferocity that only sexual frustration could give someone.

Jeongin did his best to keep his attention on undoing Hyunjin's shirt, but couldn't stop himself from letting out a sharp exhale as Hyunjin suddenly bit into his neck, seemingly not caring at all that he was getting red dye all over the side of his face as he was too lost in his pleasure.

The bite was aggressive and probably enough to draw blood, but Jeongin enjoyed the roughness, more needy moans spilling from his lips that only spurred Hyunjin on to tighten his hold on him and move from his neck to his cheek, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he did so.

Jeongin wasn't a fan, but he'd manage.

Hyunjin momentarily retracted his hands from Jeongin's hips to finish unbuttoning his annoying shirt himself, since the younger wasn't really in a position to do so with the handcuffs, and as he shrugged it off, exposing his well-built chest, Jeongin briefly caught a glance at something peeking out of the boy's front pocket.

A phone.

His heart seemed to jump in excitement at the opportunity and he hungrily licked his lips, eliciting a raspy laugh from Hyunjin as he tossed his shirt aside, no doubt believing that Jeongin was thirsting after his god-like build.

''I'm all yours if you want'', he teased, then suddenly paused before a smirk appeared on his features. ''For the night at least.''

Oh, he was one of those guys.

Even better because Jeongin _really_ didn't want to end up with a clingy boyfriend of all things after he was done here. Or any type of boyfriend.

There was exactly _one_ thing in this godforsaken room that he wanted and it was neatly tugged in Hyunjin's pocket, tauntingly peeking out, waiting for someone to snatch it.

With renewed vigor, Jeongin shoved Hyunjin against the sink once more, urging him to sit on the counter as he cupped the older's face as best as he could, connecting their lips in a kiss of heated passion and desire.

It took a second for Hyunjin to respond to the sudden advance, but once he did, he was responding fully.

His tongue swiped over Jeongin's lips experimentally before forcing its way into his mouth, hands running through the younger's hair and to the back of his neck, smearing the dye around and simultaneously making sure their lips stayed connected.

Jeongin was well aware of how close their bodies were right now, as was he of the fact that in their current position, Hyunjin's erection was pressing against him painfully hard, so he slowly let his bound hands travel from the older's cheeks to his neck and then over the hard buds on his chest, playing with them until Hyunjin was biting back a moan.

He was already way too riled up, squirming in primal need at the lightest of touches, so he slowly, teasingly, moved his hands further down to Hyunjin's waistline where he let them rest for a second, enjoying the way the older was starting to fall apart under his feathery touches, a trembling and shuddering mess against Jeongin's lips.

And when Jeongin finally placed his hands on the more than obvious bulge in his pants and started applying gentle pressure, Hyunjin lost his fucking mind.

It was like his body reacted on an instinct drilled into him by countless strangers touching him like this, his hips bucking once before he threw his head back much like Jeongin had done before, a breathless moan escaping him and his hands grabbing for some sort of purchase in Jeongin's hair, accidentally pulling painfully hard at his strands.

Whatever. He could push through the feeling.

''Fuck...''

It was all he was capable of forming in his state and it was all Jeongin needed as encouragement to grab the fabric more forcefully, feeling the outline of what was beneath it pulsing under his touch, begging him for more.

''Jinnie, you're so pretty like this'', he praised, partly as an experiment to see the older's reaction, partly because of his own curiosity, and Hyunjin let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a groan, nails digging into Jeongin's skin as he lost control over his actions.

''Harder...''

Seemed like he wasn't the only one who liked it rough.

Hyunjin was such a mess, dye smeared all over his face and mixing with his sweat, body hot to the touch and so fucking _needy_ that it was pathetic.

He was drunk off his own hormones, probably more than willing to spread his legs for Jeongin if he asked, and Jeongin indulged in every moment of his dominance.

He squeezed harder, as per Hyunjin's request, watching the older boy bang his head against the mirror behind him in an attempt to get some relief from the arousal that took hold of him.

And while it was certainly a pretty hot sight, it wasn't why Jeongin was here right now.

His gaze trailed to the phone in Hyunjin's pocket and he carefully reached out with his right hand, the left still caressing and pressing on the other's erection to distract him.

His hands were way more shaky than he would have expected and it took a great deal of coordination to get hold of his prize and slowly pull it out, but he managed to successfully steal it without breaking Hyunjin out of his haze, the phone disappearing into the pocket of his – Hyunjin's – hoodie.

Perfect.

Now he only had to do one more thing.

''Jinnie'', he purred, toying with the zipper of Hyunjin's pants as if he actually had any intention of getting him off.

He waited for a few seconds for any sort of reply, but at this point, the gasps and groans he got were the best thing he could possibly hope to get out of the older.

''Jinnie, if you tell me the passcode of your phone, I'll get on my knees for you.''

Hyunjin's breath caught in his throat.

For a terrifying moment, Jeongin suspected it was because he wasn't quite as gone as he had believed or had been torn out of his trance by the strange condition, but the moment came and went and the boy was back to being a sweaty and shuddering mess as the implications of the _second_ half of Jeongin's sentence settled in.

Thank god for hormones.

''0320'', Hyunjin breathed out, unfocused and glazed over eyes searching for Jeongin's in a silent plea. ''My birthday.''

''Happy early birthday, Jinnie.''

Jeongin mentally steeled himself, knowing he had to follow through with his part of the deal now, a small sacrifice in exchange for getting out of here, but nonetheless a sacrifice he had to offer.

His hands hovered over the waistline of Hyunjin's pants, fingers barely grazing the belt he had to undo, and whether for better or worse, Hyunjin gave him all the time he needed, seemingly sampling the pleasures of his arousal and the lightheadedness that came with it.

Jeongin had to keep him in that state as long as possible, long enough to make him forget that he had even said anything during this makeout session, long enough to erase anything that could be used against him later.

His heavy panting echoed in the room, both incredibly loud and not loud enough at the same time, as Jeongin moved to get the belt out of the way.

His movements were slow, teasing, and he heard Hyunjin groan in frustration as a result, but he didn't have time to revel in the beautiful sound as he suddenly picked up the sound of footsteps outside the bathroom.

What a stroke of fortune.

Jeongin almost sighed in relief at not having to degrade himself like he had been about to, but reeled the noise right back in and backed away from Hyunjin in wise foresight, knowing he was going to be in trouble if anyone found out he was the one who had initiated the making out.

The older male looked at him in confusion, eyes still hazy as ever, having obviously not picked up on the fact that their sexual moment had come to an end, but his bliss only lasted a few more seconds longer, the sound of the door being pushed open abruptly ripping him out of his high.

He scrambled to get off the counter and pick up his shirt, pure unadulterated horror and panic in his movements, but it was already too late when two men stepped into the room, one of them in handcuffs and the older, a rather attractive police officer, shoving the criminal forwards almost aggressively.

They both stopped when they spotted Jeongin standing in the middle of the room, as well as Hyunjin struggling to put on his shirt, and a stern expression appeared on the officer's face while the prisoner just chuckled to himself, eyeing Jeongin in amusement and mouthing what seemed to be a _Well done_ to him.

Well done indeed.

''Hyunjin.''

The guy's voice cut through the air like a knife and Hyunjin flinched, turning away from him to hide his still very prominent erection while he mumbled incoherent nonsense under his breath.

It was amusing how much of a mess he looked with red splatters and lines all over his face and now all over his clothes as well because he still had dye on his hands.

Speaking of which, it was probably time to rinse his hair.

''Meet me in my office after you've cleaned this up'', the officer commanded and Hyunjin nodded wildly, still turned away to spare himself even more embarrassment. ''I think we have a lot to talk about concerning your behavior.''

His gaze shifted over to Jeongin and the younger immediately tried to appear as innocent as possible by chaneling his maknae self, barely able to withstand five seconds under the cold eyes of this guy before he forced himself to cry, ugly and heartbreaking sobs leaving his mouth as he wiped at his eyes.

His reflection in the mirror told him he had a lot of dye on his body, either from Hyunjin touching him or simply because his hair kept falling into his face and as the guy took in his disheveled and messy appearance, he shook his head in a mix of disappointment and... jealousy?

It wasn't easy to make out through the tears, but he could swear he saw a flash of jealousy in the officer's eyes. Interesting.

''And clean up your _boyfriend_ too while you're at it'', the officer spat, dragging his prisoner with him as they both left the room.

The door closed with a heavy thud and then it was just the two of them again.

Hyunjin let out a long, exhausted sigh, carding a hand through his hair and looking bashfully at him as if apologizing for his actions, Jeongin barely able to resist the urge to break into a derisive smirk.

There was a time and place for everything and this wasn't it.

He could celebrate this sweet victory later, for now he should probably focus on consoling the older boy and acting inconspicuously.

''I can help wash up'', he offered in as weak a voice as he could manage, but Hyunjin merely shook his head, tugging on his arm to get him over to the sink.

''We should rinse the dye out first.''

Contrary to what Jeongin had expected, the process went surprisingly smooth, Hyunjin working carefully and in absolute silence, seemingly mulling over the awkward encounter he just had and what a dumbass he was for getting carried away like this.

He didn't even think to continue their little chat about the murder, something that Jeongin appreciated since he hadn't really gone through the effort of spinning the whole fake story in his head, doubting he was going to need much more than a basic _'I was framed'_ to convince the older that he was innocent.

And low and behold, he had been right. What a surprise.

He could probably just checkmate this instant, though he did enjoy seeing White struggle a bit more while trying to come up with a tactic to force him back on the defensive.

By the time Hyunjin was finished washing his hair, he was close to falling asleep over the sink, the skilled and gentle massaging relaxing him to his very core and the stream of slightly colder than necessary water feeling like heaven on his flushed skin.

However, he held himself back from indulging too much, knowing he had to put on a crestfallen and dejected facade to sell his little act.

Hyunjin toweled off his hair, Jeongin meeting his gaze in the mirror and trying to give him an encouraging smile while simultaneously admiring how pretty his newly dyed hair looked on him. He liked red.

Mark had been trying to get him to dye his hair red for ages, the self-proclaimed fashion expert that he was, and even though Jeongin didn't like wasting his time experimenting around with such trivial things, he could admit that he should have listened to his hyung for this one.

He was surprised the red was so vibrant even after half of the color had ended up somewhere, _everywhere_ , else.

''You look hot.''

_Yeah, I know._

Probably not the reaction he should be having in this situation, so he shyly played around with a strand of his hair, mumbling a barely audible ''Thanks'' that caused Hyunjin to chuckle.

He sounded more bitter than amused though, but before Jeongin could offer a fake apology, the other beat him to it.

''I'm sorry for getting you mixed up in this. I was irresponsible.''

''I suppose you were.''

The words escaped him without his consent, bordering on a condescending tone he liked to use with pawns, and Hyunjin did seem to detect his change of voice – if the raised brow and dumbfounded expression were anything to go by –, but decided against commenting about it, simply nodding and clearing his throat.

''In any case, let's bring you back.''

''Aren't we tidying this mess up?''

Jeongin gestured towards the splatters and sprinkles of red all over the floor, as well as the sink, turning the bathroom into what might as well be the scene of a crime. It would only be missing a body.

Preferably Hyunjin's.

''I'll take care of it later'', the older assured him, gently pushing him towards the door and into the hallway, the glaringly bright artificial lights and lack of usual voices a pretty solid proof that it was probably nearing lights out time, the inmates all slowly coming to rest or letting their day die away over a game of checkers, cards or chess.

Jeongin wished he could join one of their skittles games, if only to utterly destroy them with his superior tactics, but since he was officially still held in custody, his interactions with other prisoners were limited, to say the least.

Not that it mattered much, he would be leaving this place pretty soon anyway.

All thanks to Hyunjin.

The older was getting noticeably nervous as they made their way back to Jeongin's cell, running all the possible ways through his head that he could get reprimanded in and even though it was funny seeing him agonize over the talk he was going to receive, Jeongin thought it would be even funnier if he gave the boy false hope.

''Hyung'', he drawled, effectively getting Hyunjin's attention, his expression resembling a deer caught in headlights. It could have been almost cute. ''Even though we got caught, I don't regret it.''

Hyunjin's eyes widened and he coughed, no doubt a false pretense to hide his embarrassment, as well as his relief about the fact that Jeongin had enjoyed their little session. True enough, he supposed.

''What are you saying?''

Jeongin reached out for his hand, warm and soft like his personality. Easy to break, mostly.

''I'm saying we should do it again sometime, hyung'', he stated, prepared for more antsy and reluctant fidgeting, yet to his surprise, Hyunjin visibly relaxed, even lightly squeezing his hand as a shy smile found its way onto his face.

''I'm glad you think so too. You're amazing.''

The rest of their little journey was spent in silence, but Jeongin did notice the older glancing at him every now and then, always accompanied by a fond smile and god, did it feel good to have the boy completely wrapped around his finger.

Of course, even better was the fact that he still had his phone at his disposal.

Hyunjin didn't seem to realize the absence of the object in his pocket as he locked Jeongin back in his cell, promising to come visit him again very soon before he made his way down the hallway and out of sight.

Finally.

The minute he heard the heavy door at the end of the hallway fall shut with a click, he fumbled to reach the phone he had _borrowed_ from Hyunjin, unlocking it with the code he had been oh so gracefully given.

Initiating his plan right now was certainly risky, he didn't know if there were officers still patrolling the halls who could take the phone away, but he couldn't wait any longer either in case Hyunjin realized that he was missing something and came back to search for it.

Time was precious right now, he had to hurry.

As soon as the phone was unlocked, Hyunjin's homescreen greeted him, some picture of the older with a dog in his arms, but Jeongin didn't pay it any attention, instead going straight to the call screen where he composed Chan's number right away, silently thanking his subconscious for still remembering it after so many years of having Chan on speed dial.

It rang for a good thirty seconds, nothing extraordinary if Chan happened to be in the middle of serving customers, but just as Jeongin was about to hang up and try again, there was a click and Chan's voice carried over to him with all the professionalism of a proper businessman.

''Hotel Priyome, Bang Chan speaking, how can I assist you?''

Jeongin almost snorted at the serious tone, but held himself back, aware of his less than private surroundings that didn't really allow for any loud noises.

''Chan, it's me.''

''Jeongin?'', Chan asked, not so much unsure as he was confused as he seemed to move somewhere else, his steps on the marble floor giving it away. ''Jeongin, where the hell are you?''

An understandable first question, given that Jeongin had been gone for two weeks already if the date on Hyunjin's phone was set right, leaving Chan and Mark to look after the hotel on their own.

They had probaby been worried sick about him when he hadn't come back home after the supposed delivery, but he was glad they had kept the hotel running anyway, just like the three of them had promised each other.

_Even if something happens, keep playing. Don't let White push the advantage._

''I'm in prison'', he supplied, surprised how utterly nonchalant he sounded. He guessed his initial frustration from getting caught like this had sizzled out somewhere during his involuntary stay. ''The delivery didn't go as planned.''

Chan laughed dryly, the sound of which reverberated eerily in the space he was in. The elevator?

''You think? The client wasn't happy to learn that his plaything died before it even arrived.''

He could imagine.

The client had already transferred the money for Beomgyu after all, so to receive news about his doll dying before it got to him must have felt like a huge betrayal to him.

And a disappointed and angry client was never beneficial for their business.

''Did you take care of it?''

''Mark did, actually. The official story is that the guy died of a stroke. The unofficial one... well...''

There was amusement lacing Chan's voice, a testimony that the story was probably a rather funny one, but they would have to postpone it until next time.

''But why did you really call?'', the older suddenly asked. ''Do you need a ride home?''

Jeongin chuckled, leaning back against one of the walls of his cell and allowing himself to relax for a moment while his gaze remained fixed on the bars that separated him from the hallway.

''No, I actually want to ask you to frame someone for murder.''

It didn't even take a second for Chan to hum in agreement, the sound of paper ripping telling Jeongin that he was ready to take notes on how he should carry the whole thing out.

''You know I'm all for framing. Who's the unlucky individual?''

Oh, Jeongin had just the person.

Hyunjin had told him about the boy whenever Jeongin had carefully brought up his group of friends, laying bare so many tiny details and facts that were safely stored away in his brain that Jeongin had a pretty vivid picture of the boy in mind.

Though maybe that was partly because Hyunjin had, at one point, brought the boy with him on one of his regular visits, claiming the other had gotten curious where Hyunjin disappeared to all the time.

It had been a surprising and unexpected visit, but Jeongin figured the boy was pretty okay to have around and a pretty easy target as well, young and naive as he was.

Pretty perfect to pin the murder on.

''Han Jisung. Studies music at Seoul National University. I'll send a picture.''

If he was completely honest, he could have told Chan to frame any random guy on the street and it wouldn't have made much of a difference, however, he felt like chastising Hyunjin for buying into his act of being the innocent little kid.

The guy was too trusting and it was about time he received his just deserts in the form of one of his closest friends being exposed as a murderer.

''Any wishes concerning the victim?''

Chan was asking, but he used a reluctant tone, obviously having an idea of his own who he wanted to go after. Jeongin didn't mind this time.

He only needed _someone_ to die so he could frame Jisung and convince the police that he himself had been arrested under false pretense and was just a poor civilian who got mixed up into this.

''Your pick'', he offered, absentmindedly twirling a few strands of his hair between his fingers. It was incredibly soft and still smelled strongly like ammonia, a rather irritating and unpleasant odor that made him slightly nauseous, but he would live.

''Choi Yeonjun is a hit, right?''

When it came to the older choosing his victims – which were damn near all idols –, they had agreed on a 'hit or miss' principle that sorted idols in two categories, depending on how much money they were worth on the black market.

Anyone who happened to be below a set number was a hit, anyone above a miss.

The principle had proved useful back in the days to get Chan used to the fact that he couldn't kill off every idol he wanted, but the more time went on the more obsolete it got because by now the older _knew_ who was off limits and who wasn't, always exclusively picking the idols that were a hit.

He never missed, huh.

''He's yours'', he confirmed, watching the flickering lights in the hallway and faintly wondering when lights out time was.

It had gotten eerily quiet around him, conversations and other sounds having ceased as if all prisoners on his hallway had wordlessly agreed to listen in on his conversation, but he knew that was probably just his paranoia talking.

''Alright, one murder coming right up.'' There were more scribbling noises from the other end of the line, but contrary to before, Jeongin could make out faint voices in the background, making him wonder once again where exactly Chan currently was. ''How should I prepare the victim?''

Jeongin scoffed playfully, finding the older's peculiar wording humorous, while his mind jumped back to the day he had accidentally killed Beomgyu.

He had to make this murder a perfect replica of the last in order to convince the police that the killer was still on the loose and as such, every little detail that could seemingly prove that the two murders had been committed by the same person was of utmost importance.

He couldn't screw this up.

So, how exactly _had_ he killed Beomgyu?

He'd brought a variety of weapons that day, all of them safely stocked away under his jacket in case the boy acted out, but he clearly remembered his first instinct to have been reaching for his military knife, stabbing Beomgyu in the stomach once as the boy had tried to attack him.

He had fallen to the ground and Jeongin had held him there, stabbing twice and leaving the weapon lodged in his body as his hand had gone to the boy's neck, pressing down on it to keep him down.

Next...

Right, next he had gotten another knife that he had used to pry Beomgyu's mouth open with, the sharp edges making a lot of minor wounds before he had skillfully severed the boy's tongue in one swipe.

He normally preferred clean killing methods, so he didn't know what had gotten into him back then, but he had gone out of his way to fish out Beomgyu's tongue and feed it to some wild animal, to his own surprise keeping the boy's blood mostly off his clothes.

Of course there had still been _some_ blood, so he had 'collected' his trusty knife still stuck in Beomgyu's stomach and made a run for the nearest source of water to wash up.

And that was when he had realized that his watch had been left behind at the scene of the crime.

He had, quite stupidly, believed he could get it back before the police arrived, but of course fate hadn't been kind to him and some civilian had caught him trespassing.

He hadn't even tried to reason with the lady, knowing he would be a prime suspect for the murder either way, so he had just hurriedly gotten rid of his weapons and jacket, grabbed a snack from the convenience store and waited for the police to put him in custody.

Looking back on it now, he liked to think of it as a check that hadn't led to a mate.

If Chan could manage to set the entire murder up like this again, make sure that Yeonjun's tongue was found somewhere in Jisung's home and fake a receipt about the boy buying a watch similar to the one Jeongin had worn, it would be a perfect framing scheme and he told the older as much as he relayed the killing process to him.

By the time he was absolutely certain that Chan knew what to do down to the tiniest detail, the lights were finally all out, leaving only the moon to peek through the high windows and shed its radiance on him as if telling him he would shine on in a little while.

And he did.

In the days leading up to the official statement, he heard some whispers in the hallway, the officers' confusion about the case resurfacing all too obvious, but he did a great job of keeping his emotions in check and going about his routine, just like the innocent kid that he was.

Hyunjin kept his promise, taking him out during one of their shared nights to see the stars, and knowing he wouldn't be in prison much longer, the little journey conveyed a vibe of joy and anticipation that even Hyunjin caught on, his eyes sparkling as he looked at Jeongin, so pathetically unaware of his friend being framed for murder.

It was barely a week later that Jeongin was finally released from custody and declared innocent as the _real_ killer was brought in, utterly confused and scared and begging for the officers to believe him.

He caught a glimpse of Hyunjin on his way out, the boy having been denied all further visits to the prison, yet still trying to get in as he screamed at the officers who were dragging the killer away to unhand his best friend immediately.

Hyunjin didn't even glance at him once, too occupied with trying to free himself of the strong grip on his arms that was holding him back from storming into the prison, and Jeongin could admit that he looked really pretty when he was distressed like this.

Chan, his legal guardian on paper, was already waiting for him in front of the building, harmless facade perfectly in place as he welcomed Jeongin back, exchanging some pleasantries with the officer who had escorted him outside just for the sake of keeping up appearances.

Jeongin made sure to toss Hyunjin's phone into a random bush on their way home, had Chan update him on the status of their jobs and went out for dinner with Mark that evening to celebrate his innocence.

And that could have been the end of his involvement with Hyunjin. With Jisung.

Except it wasn't.

''I don't know about this.''

The superintendent of the prison liked to act noble, conflicted, keeping up appearances as much as the rest of them as he sat in front of him with his fancy uniform and his fancy medals on the walls of his fancy office, but Jeongin knew he was bribable.

There was far too much proof for the man to put up a holier-than-thou facade, no use in fighting the demands Jeongin had given him on paper, for he would resort to more _drastic_ measures if the man intended to play _hard to get_ like some prissy teenage girl.

He slid another million over the desk, casual as could be, watching the man's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed uneasily.

There was a lot of money at stake and he would be downright stupid not to accept the offer as it stood.

''Relocate Han Jisung to a facility at the other end of Seoul. Somewhere no one will know him. Isolate him. Release him after precisely eighty days. Leave everything else to me.''

The instructions were written on the paper, but he repeated them anyway, simply to show that the man wouldn't be treading in illegal territory if he accepted the offer. Which he should. Urgently.

Jeongin was not a patient person when it came to such talks and this guy was pushing it.

His gun rested in his pocket as usual, just out of sight, yet he had informed the superintendent that it was there and that he would use it if the decision took too long.

''By all means, Mr. Yang, why are you going to such lengths?''

The question was careful, but Jeongin was not patient.

He leaned back, ice cold gaze pinning the man to his chair opposite the table, bags of money at his feet and the paper still resting untouched in front of him.

He hated business talks like these.

''Because I want to know'', he said, and nothing more.

But somehow it was enough to warrant a signature, a written insignia that the prison was now in cahoots with the most influential human trafficking organization to grace the earth.

Things did work out in Jeongin's favor most of the time.


	14. [Queen's Black Knight]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very late happy new year! 
> 
> With the Maknae on Top MV dropping, I have been summoned to get my shit together and edit this chapter for you after it sat in my docs for like... 6 months now? It's crazy how many chapters in advance I write.
> 
> You know what else is crazy though? Chan, in this chapter.

_**> >System Log<<** _ ****

_**''BLACK'' executes Pin.** _

Chan liked taking walks around Jisung's university.

It wasn't so much because he genuinely craved leisure activities like this, enjoyed the early and fresh morning wind messing up his hair or the mindless chattering of pulsing crowds of students that were perched together on campus.

It wasn't because he missed a life that could have passed as _normal_ , trying to balance studies and part-time jobs to pay back his student loans while pulling all-nighter after all-nighter to hand in that paper on time.

And it definitely wasn't because he actually cared about education and considered securing a base for his future that he could rely on when he decided to drop out of the crime business.

No, what he mostly visited the university for were the opportunities to study other people's behavior and work out how to better manipulate them.

Seeing how they coped with loss and heartbreak, frustration and envy or any matters concerning love made for an entertaining drama and he would be lying if he said he didn't indulge just a little in the petty arguments or insignificant stories going around whenever he passed yet another group of students in the hallways.

No one ever spared him a second glance except to blatantly check out his ass and handsome face and while he certainly soaked up that jealousy and admiration like a sponge, it wasn't anything too satisfying to him.

Nothing ever really compared to the feeling of warm blood and a shivering mess of limbs beneath his hands anyway and the people he spotted loitering around weren't even that attractive to begin with, looking more like stressed out zombies and half-dead vampires than anything else.

Of course there was the occasional pretty boy strolling around who did manage to hold Chan's attention for more than two seconds, but none of them made him want to put in a genuine effort to get them into his bed, so single life it was.

He guessed he was pretty much married to his work anyway.

His work was actually another reason why he always hung around the university, his experience showing him that most of his targets typically tended to hide in plain sight, feeling drawn to this university in particular for whatever weird reason was there.

If he had to make a guess, he would imagine it to be because of the wide variety of majors provided here, but at the same time he really didn't care that much about whatever miracle made his jobs easier as long as it just kept doing that.

His most recent job had brought him here as well, figuring the university was his best startline to search for a runaway idol, yet the time he had chosen could have probably been a better one, the hallways nearly empty as all students appeared to either be in their classes or skipping their morning lectures all together in favor of sleeping in.

He doubted the idol was going to be any different, so he allowed himself to mindlessly wander the halls, enjoying the serene and almost eerily quiet atmosphere that surrounded him, broken only by his own calculated exhales and the echo of his steps on the hard floor.

It brought back a weird kind of melancholy from those days shortly after Christopher had passed away when he had been stuck in that room with its stone walls, the ugly, too bright lights and the boy that had sat curled up in his corner, crying miserably while at the same time not getting a grasp on the situation.

_''Do you know why we're here?''_

It was the first time Chan had addressed him, taken note of his existence in his drugged up haze, and he faintly remembered the boy having met his cold gaze, flinching back into his corner like a scared animal.

As if _Chan_ had been the person to be terrified of in this situation.

As if he wasn't locked up as well, just waiting for his uncertain fate to befall him after these people had fished him out of the sea for their own gain.

To this day, Chan couldn't understand how they could have possibly acquired the knowledge that there was supposed to be a ship full of troublesome teenagers on its way towards a mental institution in Jeonnam, but the fact was that they _had_ known and they had taken full advantage of it.

The news had portrayed it as an accident, a tragedy that had struck the souls who had lost their way long ago and had eaten every single one up as a compensation for the sins committed by them, but as dramatic as that sounded, it didn't even come close to what had really transpired.

In a selfish sort of way, Chan was glad Christopher wasn't around anymore.

Even if the boy had been problematic and too aggressive, he had been a softie at heart who only used violence to hide his insecurities, and it would have been a hassle to deal with his whining about how things had turned out so ugly.

Christopher wouldn't have been able to withstand even a single day in that room, not necessarily because he was afraid of the dark – which he was – but because they would have cut him open right from the get go, indulged in his pathetic cries for death and threw him out like trash once they were done with him.

Chan had spared him from that cruel fate.

_''Who are you?''_

As the boy had mustered up the courage to speak, it had become apparent that he was sick, a shaking and coughing bundle of skin way too pale to be considered healthy, and Chan had wondered how long he might have been in that room already.

_''I'm not the enemy''_ , he had settled on saying, slowly getting up and walking over to the boy, hand outstretched in a friendly gesture.

He hadn't really expected the other to take it, so he hadn't been particularly insulted when the boy had simply stared up at him warily without saying anything.

He had been young. He probably hadn't understood where he was, who he could trust or what was supposed to happen to him.

Well, that was what Chan had believed at least.

_''Will they sell us?''_

It hadn't sounded nearly as pathetic and helpless as Chan would have expected, quite the contrary actually, for a second he had thought he heard genuine _excitement_ in the boy's voice.

As if being held captive and sold on the black market was anything to be excited about.

But the boy's eyes had indeed sparkled with a foreign euphoria that was so out of place that it could have very well been mistaken for insanity and Chan had inevitably asked himself just where these people had picked up a child like this, barely into his teens and already twisted in that quiet, unnoticeable kind of way that was bound to explode sooner or later.

And it would no doubt explode in their faces, destructive and violent and ugly so that not even their miserable remains would be left for the police to analyze.

But of course the boy couldn't really do any significant damage himself, at least not to the extent that it would hurt grown men, and that was exactly where Chan had come in.

Because Chan had always been violent.

_''We could be a team.''_

The boy had offered it up to him with a coy look and a slight tilt of the head, attentive and intense eyes seeming to bore right into his soul, and in a purely whimsical decision, Chan had decided to share forces with him until they had successfully escaped.

He'd held no interest in continuing to work with the boy afterwards, much rather preferring to set his own path of destruction himself, but as fate would have it, he had ended up with the boy anyway even after walking away from him.

He figured it was to be expected, after all, a walk around the world would always end at the starting point again.

And Chan's starting point just so happened to be the boy.

Jeongin.

The melancholy of those early days was abruptly lost when he suddenly caught sight of something colorful at the edge of his vision, a poster of some sort having been plastered to the grey walls, and that was all it took for him to force himself to concentrate, reminding his conscience that he was here for one thing and one thing only – finding Lee Know.

Still, out of curiosity, he examined the poster on the wall for a moment, the words _Graduation Party_ almost jumping out at him with their gaudy colors and unsightly design that was making it hard to even decipher the phrase in the first place.

The background of the poster wasn't much of an improvement, if anything it was even worse because it seemed as if whoever had designed this disaster had simply chucked a bucket of paint at a white paper and called it a day.

Chan had no idea of graphic design or art in general, but he was pretty confident that he had more talent for design in his left hand than whichever clown had created this monstrosity had in their whole body.

Simply put, it was a vomit of colors and strange, unreadable font aesthetics made by a bunch of twelve year olds and it really hurt his head. It was shit.

''This is shit'', a surprisingly deep voice suddenly huffed from somewhere behind him and Chan perked up, turning around just in time to see a gorgeous blonde boy step out of one of the lecture halls, looking positively pissed as he gestured wildly at the posters that were decorating the hallways, all of them as hideous as the one Chan was currently standing in front of. ''What were these clowns doing? They had _one_ job and look how they ruined it! This is a disaster!''

In his frustration he tore a poster down, crumpling the cheap paper and tossing it aside, the sad ball bouncing off the walls and coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

''Useless classmates! Why don't I just do everything myself?''

Another student next to the boy chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder sympathetically, but Chan couldn't really concentrate on anything but the blonde boy's annoyed features and the way he was so stupidly attractive with his furrowed brows and red cheeks and pretty freckles and messy hair.

He looked innocent enough to be some real fun to play around with, yet at the same time feisty enough to not make it too easy to mess with him. Chan liked those kind of guys, as rare as they were to find.

''Who's even going to come to the party with posters like these? Like really? Our concept is so great and unique and what do they do with it? That's right, _nothing_! This is outrageous!''

''Felix, calm down, you're getting way too agitated about this.''

Chan's head snapped towards the other guy who had spoken, his voice vaguely familiar and face basically an exact replica of the picture Mark had given him to aid in identifying the idol he was after.

It sat in his pocket still and one fleeting look at it was enough to confirm that the boy in front of him, leisurely chatting with this _Felix_ kid and trying to calm him down, was the same one who had set a fire on the vocal floor of Starlight Entertainment and ran away from the company all together.

There was no doubt about it.

This was Lee Know.

''No, hyung, this _is_ something to get agitated over'', Felix huffed, shrugging the idol's hand off his shoulder.

His _left_ hand.

_''He will prefer to use his left hand as much as possible.''_

Mark had done the mission briefing this time and Chan remembered it very vividly because whereas Jeongin liked to keep things short and simple, Mark had gone into tremendous detail about behaviorial quirks and anything that would help Chan track down his victim, right down to his favorite song.

How that would help with anything, he had no clue, but at least he had found another song to listen to.

Though if he had known it was going to be _this_ easy, he would have spared himself all the details Mark had insisted on relaying to him, a fair amount of them probably from Jisung.

Speaking of which, Chan was surprised the boy was really blind enough not to realize that his favorite idol was attending the same university as him, but he guessed Jisung didn't see so many things anymore that it didn't make a huge difference.

''And what are you going to do about the posters anyway?''

There was another annoyed huff from Felix and Chan could see him looking around the hallway, trying to spot some more posters to tear off the wall and relocate to the nearest trashbin.

''Get rid of them before too many people see them and get a freaking seizure, what the hell do you think?''

His gaze caught the poster behind Chan and, by default, the older himself, and Chan had to keep himself from chuckling as he noticed the boy's attention suddenly shifting, his temper dissolving into thin air and leaving only an intrigued expression on his face.

He was far from being subtle with his staring, but Chan humored him anyway by pretending to concentrate on his phone, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair in that way that he knew had plenty of girls and boys alike swooning.

He thought he vaguely heard Lee Know hissing something along the lines of _Stop being so obvious_ , but he doubted the boy had caught it as well because when he looked up, his gaze was instantly met by Felix's and it took a lot of willpower to adopt a confused expression and not act _too_ smug.

At least not until he could figure out a way to get Felix into his sheets, chained to the bed, dripping in red.

Delicious. The mere thought of that pretty face twisting in agony inflicted by him was just so delicious.

A million different possibilities what to do with the boy invaded his mind, flashing in front of his eyes as pictures of red, black and white, but he had perfected his act over dozens of missions to the point that he could dissemble the euphoria building up in his heart in favor of keeping his facade.

It was all about deception in his business anyway.

''Hi?'', he supplied after a moment of awkward silence and that one word had Felix recoiling in shock as if he had only now realized he had been staring. So oblivious. So tasty. ''Can I help you or are you just admiring the art?''

The boy choked on air quite embarrassingly, not even bothering to reply as he tugged at Lee Know's arm, dragging the other with him past Chan and mumbling something about having some homework to go over.

Chan watched them leave with a calculating look, already running down the details in his head of how and where and when he could get Lee Know.

The boy was basically a loner, so he shouldn't be around too many people anyway, but Felix was kind of a problem.

Sure, he could always just kill the boy, but it would be such a waste to pluck this pretty flower too soon, especially when he hadn't even gotten a taste of it yet.

Fuck first, kill later. Or something.

Mark did like to switch the order around from time to time, something about it being more calming and relaxing, but Chan enjoyed the struggle, the powerplay and the cries, so breathing and conscious it was.

He enjoyed seeing people writhing underneath him, begging for mercy that would never come as he slit their throat in a manner delicate enough to put royal families to shame.

However, not killing Felix meant that he had to find another way to separate the two of them.

He figured it would be a good start to knock the boy out somewhere, but he didn't really have the ressources on him right now to make that happen and since it would be unwise to lose track of his victim, he simply trailed the two, hoping for an opportunity to present itself.

He wasn't typically the type to sit in the shadows and wait for his prey to come close enough to catch, but Jeongin had specifically asked him to keep it down for this mission, especially since there was a nationwide search for the idol he was supposed to capture, for whatever reason there was for that.

Maybe this was the idol he had spent the last years searching for.

The one that had possessed the audacity to make profit and good publicity for themselves out of Chan's misery, portraying themselves as a Samaritan, a savior of those poor souls that were abducted from their homes to be sold to the scum of the world.

Chan remembered the condescending and pleased look on the idol's face well, but their features had blurred in his mind over the years and digging around the internet hadn't led to any pictures of what had transpired in the forest after him and Jeongin had managed to escape the people they had been held prisoner by.

Jeongin had barely been conscious at the time, the details of which Chan couldn't recall anymore, and bleeding profusely from a head wound, and he himself had fractured something in his leg, leaving him limping and not at all in a condition to get the two of them to safety.

Back then, he had thanked luck, destiny and coincidence for the idol boy that had sat on a fallen log in the forest, being interviewed by a bunch of people about their newest album in plain sight.

With the last of his energy, Chan had heaved himself over to these people, begging for help for the boy that had almost been bleeding out on his back even if it had been against his pride, against his very nature.

And while there had been a genuine reaction of shock and pity – probably mostly for the cameras if he thought about it –, the idol hadn't _done_ anything except turn the little disruptance into profit.

_''Let's film a shot of me finding these boys, I'm sure my fans will love that. It'll be good publicity.''_

_''I can't get much closer, I don't want their blood on my outfit. Do you know how expensive that shit was?''_

_''Make sure they stay alive, I can't sell this story to the news if they end up dying.''_

It had been a disgusting experience through and through, being posed like dolls in a fake set-up and not even having the strength to tell these self-centered assholes to stop and get them to a hospital.

More than for himself, Chan had been worried for Jeongin, the boy becoming more and more unresponsive, and it had caused him to push himself up with great effort, ruining a perfect shot of the idol pretending to get him to drink water.

If Chan had seen red for his entire life, he had seen black in that single moment, rage summoned from within the deepest depths of his soul having drawn upon the little stamina he had left, providing him with enough coordination to pull out his pocket knife, the same one he still used, and slash it across whatever he had been able to reach in an attempt to hurt the idol as much as possible.

Possibly even kill the guy, but that hadn't really worked out.

There had been a surprised screech of terror and Chan had briefly made out the gash he had caused on the idol's shoulder, as well as the guy's upper arm, making sure to leave some nasty scars that would eternalize their encounter until Chan could come back to finish what he started.

Two wounds, one dangerously close to the idol's neck, dancing along his shoulder blade and the other a horizontal line on his arm.

In his books, that boy was marked for death already, and no one could possibly stop him from taking his sweet revenge once he found him again.

He'd make sure the idol suffered a slow, traumatizingly painful death at his hands after he had finished mutilating the guy's body, cutting off his fingers one by one, shoving his knife up the guy's ass and slicing his abdomen open so he could let rats and cockroaches nibble at his insides.

A twisted part of him also really wanted to eat a piece of the idol's body right in front of them, but he dismissed that as wishful thinking because he wasn't sure he would be able to get the foul and filthy skin down anyway and vomiting it up would do nothing except give the bastard some satisfaction in his last moments.

Which was absolutely not what Chan was going for.

He wanted to grin down at the idol as he took everything away from him, seeing the life drain out of his eyes, along with the realization of just who Chan was.

He wanted to make the boy atone for how he had treated him and Jeongin.

The mere thought of his revenge tasted like sugar on his tongue, but he knew very well that he had to catch the idol first in order to start living out his fantasies, a feat that had proved to be more difficult than anticipated as one year had turned into two and then three and then four.

If he had been anyone else, he would have moved on with his life by now and dropped the fruitless chase, but he wasn't and he wouldn't forgive this.

He was going to chase this fucker to the ends of this world if this was what it took.

Noticing a headache descending on him as it always did when he got too into his manic thoughts of revenge, Chan took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down and ground himself in the present.

Felix and Lee Know were still chatting somewhere in front of him, in English as far as he could tell, even though the idol clearly had some difficulties with pronunciation.

''You say it too gently, Minho hyung. Try pronouncing it more strongly.''

The familiar Australian accent spilling from Felix's lips warmed Chan's heart, for it was the closest thing to home he had experienced so far, and he made a mental note not to let the boy out of his sight.

That was a jackpot right there and he wanted it.

Lee Know – or Minho, was it? – made a half-hearted attempt to repeat whatever the hell he had just said, but Chan truthfully wasn't paying much attention to anything except Felix and the way he seemed to steal Chan's breath away without even trying by simply _existing._

Oh, how terribly unfair it was that someone this pretty wasn't in his possession.

Someone really ought to do something about that.

''What do you mean, _the aussie way of pronouncing things?_ You never had an issue with my accent before, that's hardly an excuse. Just try again, hyung.''

Felix snickered, a sound that was going to stay ingrained in Chan's memory for a long time, before motioning for Minho to follow him into the library, presumably to work on some essays or something alike.

Chan wanted to scream.

His patience wasn't exactly his strong point and with his target literally within arm's reach, he noticed himself growing restless to the point of wanting to ignore Jeongin's orders and secure the idol _his_ way.

But of course he couldn't do that if he wanted to live another day, so he quietly slipped into the library as well, noting with satisfaction that it was just as deserted as the hallways, not a soul in sight apart from the duo that settled down around a table, looking oh so wonderfully like fresh pieces of meat served on a silver platter.

And damn, how cruel it was that he had to hold himself back when he was literally _starving_ , his prey so close yet still one step too far away, one meter too close to the surveillance camera that hung imposing in the corner, filming the two boys and their boring study adventures.

Chan took shelter behind one of the almost ceiling high shelves, out of sight for both the camera and his next meal, and simply watched the scene unfold in front of him, gaze almost exclusively focused on pretty boy Felix as if staring at him intensely enough would make him magically get up and leave the room for two minutes.

Because two minutes was really all the time he needed to finish this.

Not that fate was kind enough to give him that opportunity just yet.

''You're not looking forward to the party?''

Felix propped his head up on his hands, barely able to glance over the edge of the textbook Minho had put in front of him, and Chan swore he heard the idol scoff, although that was difficult to make out from this distance.

''What's there to look forward to? We're basically just there to bring the graduates their drinks, looking all dolled up as fairy tale characters. How exciting.''

''We can still enjoy ourselves, you know that, right?''

_Enjoy ourselves._

Chan suddenly had a strong urge to attend this party as well, if only to relish in the sight of Felix in a tight costume flitting around the place being hot and irresistible.

Hell, he already was in Chan's books.

''I'm not really the type to enjoy parties.''

Minho was drawing every word out with utmost care, probably choosing the most appropriate and thought through phrasing he could come up with, a leftover of trainee days and receiving backlash for questionable word choices.

''So you don't like dancing? Singing? Performing?''

Felix's question was innocent enough, but Chan could tell it backed Minho into a metaphorical corner as he was struggling how to respond, torn between straight up denying or trying to come up with a reasonable excuse.

''I... used to'', he finally settled on, going with the most cryptic option he could have chosen. Stupid. ''But I don't like it anymore.''

As expected, the answer only roused Felix's curiosity and Chan could see him leaning forward, making an attempt to tear down Minho's book so he could get a look at his face.

''Why not?''

And further into the corner he went. It was quite amusing to watch Minho writhe around on his chair, fiddling with his hands, _break apart_ just from a simple inquiry.

How did this idol get by in the world?

''What does it matter?'', he countered weakly. ''I don't need a reason. Tastes change. Times change.''

''See, that just makes me think there really _is_ something that happened to you.''

Minho let out a stuttering breath. Chan wanted to break into a fit of laughter, but managed to control himself and keep his amusement in, indulging in Minho's floundering.

He was liking Felix more and more.

''That's ridiculous. There's nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me...''

There was some rustling, followed by Minho's figure striding towards the exit, and Chan honestly couldn't believe how easy that had been as he snuck out of the room as well before Felix could even react.

Target successfully isolated, thanks to Felix's graceful service.

His steps were eerily loud in the otherwise completely still hallway, but he didn't let that bother him as he chased after the idol, deeming this probably the one and only chance he would get to pull this off.

To hell with all stealth, he only needed to be faster than Minho, shove him into some secluded area that wasn't the hallway and knock him out, maybe even tie him up if he had the time.

As far as he – Jeongin – was aware, there was no security around these halls, neither was in the storage rooms, but as soon as Minho entered a crowded lecture hall or moved to a place with camera surveillance, it was pretty much a lost game he was playing, so he did his best to keep up with the idol's fast pace.

Minho knew he was being chased, Chan could tell that much just from the change in his posture, the way he tensed up and the quick glance over his shoulder, and for a moment, he did seem to consider screaming for help.

For whatever reason there was in his pea-sized brain, he didn't, instead opting for trying to outrun Chan, making sharp turns as if he was a rabbit and Chan a wolf who would actually get confused by something like this.

Needless to say, it didn't work well, only spurring him on more as he rushed down the hallway, the loud patter of shoes on the floor surely serving as a distraction for whatever lecture was currently going on behind all those doors, none of which Minho even _tried_ to open to escape from him.

Seemed like he was even dumber than he looked and that was saying something, considering he was an idol.

Chan managed to grab the back of Minho's shirt right as he was about to disappear down another hallway, the fabric rough und uncomfortable beneath his fingers, and he violently yanked on it, successfully throwing Minho off balance and making him tumble.

An instinctive yell left his lips, but Chan wasn't having any of that when he was trying to kidnap Minho, so he shoved him into the wall, not even flinching at the harsh thud and the groan of pain it elicited from the boy as he was flailing around, trying to grab for any sort of purchase.

His knees buckled for a short moment, clearly a side effect from the sudden dizzyness that was probably taking over his mind, but he managed to keep his balance.

What a pity.

A string of weak protests, curses or whatever the hell these noises were supposed to be escaped him, none of which mattered as Chan grabbed the idol's hair and pulled his head back by his obviously dyed, strawy strands, only to bang it against the stone wall again.

He was careful not to use _too_ much strength, no matter how tempting it was to give Minho the concussion of his life, but in hindsight, he felt like he could have probably used a lot more and gotten away with it.

Jeongin was normally lenient with minor damages if Chan could prove that he'd been having a hard time properly restraining and incapacitating the idol.

This didn't really apply to Minho, but he'd bullshitted his way through bigger lies and still got away with it.

''W-who are you...?''

Minho's fingers suddenly curled into Chan's shirt out of nowhere, confused, hazy eyes flitting over the older's face without seeing anything as he tried to make sense of the situation.

He was way too uncoordinated to do any harm and his voice sounded weirdly slurred, but since he was still standing, Chan took that as a sign he wasn't incapacitated enough yet.

Smiling sweetly, he pried Minho's fingers away from his shirt with faux gentleness before crushing them in his hold, the tell-tale crunching like music to his ears, just like the pained wail the idol let out, attempting to pull his arm back.

It was pathetic, a kitten whimpering, wobbling on his legs, and disgust took over Chan as he kicked Minho in the shin, the impact hard enough to send him to the ground at last.

He crashed to his knees – where he belonged –, panting and sobbing miserably, yet not looking up at Chan, obviously trying not to anger him.

''Stop'', he begged, cradling his injured hand to his chest as a few tears rolled down his cheek. ''I-I don't even k-know you, why...''

He was shaking, _scared_ , and the older considered for a moment just how much _more_ fun he could have with his living punching bag before he had to call it quits.

Jeongin wouldn't know. Jeongin didn't need to know.

However, all thoughts of taking it up a notch were blown out of the window at the ring of the bell and the sound of commotion behind closed doors as students got ready to leave the lecture hall, sending Chan straight into panic.

Shit, he hadn't accounted for this.

There was no way he'd be able to make his way out of here with an almost unconscious boy and _not_ appear suspicious, so he hastily grabbed Minho's arm, not even giving the boy time to get up before he dragged him to the nearest storage room.

The useless idol fell over – of course –, some incomprehensible mumbling coming from him, but Chan couldn't give any less of a shit about either the suspicious crack in Minho's arm or the fact that he was literally mopping the floor with his face.

If anything, it would have been hilarious if he hadn't been on a timer, but since he was, he simply yanked Minho into the storage room, slamming the door just in time before nearly every other door on the hallway was thrown open and the chattering of people filled the air.

Chan schooled his expression to one of boredom, even taking out his phone and pretending to be immersed with something while he leaned against the storage room's door in case Minho was still somewhat receptive and attempted to get out.

Nothing happened.

Students were filing out of their lecture halls, going about their business, chatting with their friends, and for a second, Chan really believed he could get away with waiting until the crowd dispersed and resume his kidnapping scheme.

He should have known better.

''Hey!''

The stern voice almost had him hissing, but he kept his temper contained, his innocent facade perfectly in place as he looked up from his phone to see a tall figure striding towards him, gaze almost pinning him to the wall.

By the way the boy was dressed, prissy and disgustingly snobby, head held high as if he was _the_ shit at university, there was only one option who he could possibly be and Chan inwardly sighed.

Great. Fucking great.

Just what he needed.

When the boy was standing right in front of him, nearly towering over Chan, he swiftly reached into his pocket, producing an ID card and holding it out for Chan to see.

Not that it was really necessary, after all Chan knew damn well that the boy was on the Performance Team, but he humored the asshole anyway, ingraining the boy's name into his memory.

Another target on his hit list.

_Wen Junhui._

_Performance Team._

''Wen Junhui, Performance Team'', the boy – very needlessly – repeated and Chan rolled his eyes, but gave a slight bow anyway, knowing it stroked this guy's ego. ''May I see your hall pass or ID card?''

Chan didn't have either of those.

He wasn't a student here, only coming by every now and then to stroll around, and while he _was_ in possession of a fake ID for such cases – courtesy of Jeongin –, he had found out recently that the university had changed the layout, so offering an old ID would probably be even more suspicious than not showing one at all.

Plus, Chan didn't really have time to ponder much about anything when he literally had a half-conscious idol trapped in the room behind him.

This was just asking for disaster.

''I'm a visitor'', he supplied, with the friendliest man-of-the-people voice he could force out without throwing up, but Junhui's eyes narrowed regardless, his sharp gaze piercing Chan.

He had no reason not to buy the act, not with Chan's supreme acting talent, but he couldn't help his nervousness at the lack of a response, at the lack of _noise_ that could overpower any potential cries for help on Minho's part.

Thankfully though, everything stayed silent.

Finally, an idol who understood the fine art of shutting the hell up.

''No unauthorized entry in these parts of the building'', Junhui finally disclosed and Chan adopted a surprised expression, making sure to change it to one of embarrassment after a few seconds.

''Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know.''

''Now you do.''

There was that stare again, roaming Chan's body as if searching for something incriminating, something Junhui could pin on him to hold him here and question him further, but he wouldn't find anything.

Chan almost wanted to throw a statement à la _'I'm not the one who caused Dino to go missing'_ in his face, just to rub some salt into a fresh wound, yet he knew to hold his breath, waiting patiently for the guy to disappear.

''I'll see you out.''

Oh for fucks sake.

''You really don't have to'', Chan tried to argue back, keeping his voice gentle in case Junhui would take it the wrong way. ''I know where the exit is, I can go myself.''

Junhui's eyes were icy, holding immeasurable disdain as if somehow, for some reason, he _knew_.

But that was stupid, right? How could he know?

''I insist. I'll see you out.''

There was no room for objections, no way in which Chan could have managed to push the boundaries further without being aggressive and he gritted his teeth, knowing he had to cave right now or risk exposing himself.

He nodded, slowly detaching himself from the door, although with a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought about the opportunity washed down the drain.

This could have been so easy, but of course the fucking Performance Team had to get involved and mess up his plans.

God, he was going to kill Dino once he got his hands on the boy.

Frustrated, Chan pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, glaring at Junhui as he followed him down the corridor, painfully aware of the many witnesses that kept him from ending the boy's life right here.

What rotten luck he had managed to catch today was beyond him, but he knew it wasn't the end of his streak of misfortune just yet.

Because he still had to tell Jeongin about his failed mission.

He was so screwed.


End file.
